


Entwined Chis

by K_Griffin



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Magic, Drama & Romance, F/M, Graphic Description, Kung Fu, Medical Procedures, Mystery, Mythology References, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 146,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Griffin/pseuds/K_Griffin
Summary: Paul and Kermit's past catches up with them, endangering innocent people in the process. Paul makes a discovery and Kermit finds what he was looking for.Every bit as cheesy and far-fetched as the original!!





	1. Chapter 1

   Kermit Griffin slowly woke from one of the most vivid dreams he could ever remember having. _She_ was in it, of course, as it had been customary for the past month or so. It had ceased to amaze him, in fact. At first, he had thought his subconscious had decided to present him with a female version of himself: dark-haired, smart-mouthed and barking in exasperation at a growing number of white-dressed morons just as he would have done at 101st Precinct on a bad day; but on closer inspection he had decided against it.

Still, she reminded him of someone else, and seeing as he couldn’t pinpoint whether that particular someone was friend or foe, he had filed the feeling, for lack of a better word, away in a mental folder, to analyze later. It wasn’t that he didn’t think it was important, just that he knew from experience that he would get zilch if he tried to extricate it from a rebellious memory. It would come to him in due time.

He’d once said his subconscious was a dark, dank place in which even Caine wouldn’t survive. He hadn’t been bluffing, but this was getting out of hand. He had been _trained_ to suppress that little treacherous part of his psyche, after all, and now, out of the blue, this oneiric woman had just waltzed inside his mind uninvited and taken up residence among his darkest secrets _. How nice. Make yourself at home, why don’t you._ So he felt like he knew her inside out already, although his rational mind felt the need to remind him every once in a while that it was likely she was as unreal as the rest of the paraphernalia accompanying her: bright, cold rooms, beeping machines and wailing people, gunfire, blood, howls, pain… Dank place indeed.

Oh, yeah.

 

It was a typical day in the 101st Precinct. There were phones ringing everywhere, Broderick stood stoically at the front desk half-buried in folders and files, Chief Streinlich ran amok around the premises screaming himself hoarse at anyone who crossed his path; Peter was soundly ignoring poor, hyperactive Nicky Elder, Jody and Skalany had cornered Blake and were trying to charm him into lending them some mics for a stake-out, and the damn coffee pot was broken again.

“What else is new”, Kermit sighed to himself as he entered his office.

He flopped into his chair with a heavy sigh, turned on his computer and stared into space, wondering if this would be the day when he would finally pluck out the courage to actually search for the woman who had invaded his dreams.

“Kermit, anything yet on those files from Blackwood?” asked Peter, entering his office in a rush, startling Kermit out of his very scattered wits.

“Jesus, kid, no one taught you to knock first?”

“What, you’ve got porn in there? Nothing I haven’t seen before, I’m sure”, Peter said lightly.

“I’m sure”, Kermit growled.

Peter put a cup of coffee on the table as an offer of peace.

“Here, I knew you’d be grouchy. I got it from the coffee shop from across the street. Triple espresso, no cream, no sugar”.

“Just like the cowboys take it”, Kermit said. “Thanks, kid”.

 “Anytime. So, what about those files? Paul’ll have my head if I don’t— Kermit?” he inquired, looking at the ex-mercenary. Kermit had been savoring his drink with his eyes closed. _Her_ face flashed across his mind and he started violently, snapping his eyes open behind his trademark dark green sunglasses.

“Kermit?”

“It’s nothing”, he replied, a little more harshly than he’d intended. “I… I’ve burned my tongue”.

“Coffee’s tepid, man”.

“Still”.

Peter knew better than trying to wiggle anything out of a moody Kermit, so he stood up to leave.

“You’ll let me know as soon as you’ve got those files, won’t you”.

“Oh, yeah. Now, scram”.

Peter walked towards the door and he almost collided with Captain Blaisdell.

“My office, both of you”, he said.

Kermit and Peter looked at each other in a “now-what-did-we-do” way, but both followed Blaisdell meekly into his office.

“Sit”, the Captain said gruffly.

“Are we grounded?” Peter joked.

“Stop that, Peter.  Now is not the time. Kermit, remember our little chat a few days ago?”

“I have been cursed with an excellent memory”.

“Well, he’s definitely shifted into action mode. He took down Grayson and Morell not two hours ago”.

“WHAT?”

“Mind telling me what this is about?” Peter quipped.

 

So Blaisdell explained briefly.

He and Kermit had been acquainted with Jenner Atherton a long time ago, back in their mercenary days. Atherton was ruthless, powerful, and of course, rich beyond the stretch of imagination. He was behind every armed conflict around the world, every illegal operation: drugs, prostitution, slavery, weaponry, you name it, he had a slice of the cake, and a big one, too. And try as they might, the Agency had not been able to take him down.  Hell, even the slightly illegal Dragonswing hadn’t been able to take care of him, either. Jenner Atherton was too well protected. Through Paul and Kermit’s single-handed efforts, the Dragonswing had indeed managed to, shall we say, mysteriously disappear some key men of Atherton’s organization, who also happened to be members of his close family, and now he was seeking revenge.

“This sounds like a bad soap opera”, Peter moaned.

“I know, doesn’t it?” Paul agreed. “Mercenary life and its aftermath is one big bad soap opera, son”.

“One with real guns and coffins”, Kermit interjected. “Besides, after what you’ve been through with Caine, you can hardly be surprised, kid”.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right…”

“Ever since we heard he was on the move”, Paul added, “I informed some of the old gang and we’ve been monitoring unusual activity. Sadly, we weren’t able to prevent Grayson and Morell’s deaths. I was certain you two would be followed, for obvious reasons, but so far no one seems to have tailed you”.

“Probably Pop took care of my tails and I didn’t even notice”, said Peter. Kermit managed a half-smile.

“Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know how’s things so you’ll be careful”, Blaisdell said. “Anything unusual, _anything at all,_ report back to me immediately. _Do not_ try to play heroes. This man is dangerous”.

“Oh, yeah!”

“What about Mom and the girls?” said Peter.

“Yes, yes. About that... I tried moving them to a safe house, but they wouldn’t hear of it. So I’m shipping them off to London, in a sort of leisure-slash-get-the-hell-out-of-here trip. Todd couldn’t go, but Carolyn’s definitely going. They’ll stay with Rykker”.

“Well, that’s safe”, Kermit blurted out, and the three men laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

It was Kermit’s first sleepless night for over a month. He had even considered going through his emergency cabinet, where he kept the most potent sleeping drugs known to mankind, a token of his mercenary days, but he regarded it as a weakness and hence discarded the idea.

So there he was, his back against the pillows, eyes wide open and salt-and-pepper hair a mess, brooding.

He needed the black-haired girl to sleep and that knowledge infuriated him to no end. But his little chat with Paul and Peter seemed to have robbed him of his ability to conjure her.

“Well, I’ll be damned”, he snarled. He tossed the bed covers aside and got up to get himself a snifter of brandy. That couldn’t hurt, he mused. He was half way to his bedroom door when the phone rang. He retraced his steps and picked up the receiver.

“Griffin”, he stated simply.

“Kermit, I trust I didn’t wake you up?” it was Paul Blaisdell.

“You know you did not”, Kermit said dryly.

“Our little chat ruffled you? The package is on its way, by the way” Kermit knew by that, Paul meant his wife and daughters, “but still. One of the boys just informed me of an attack. It bears our mutual friend’s signature”.

“Who did he—?”

“That’s the thing. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you before. Especially Peter.”

“Oh?”

“Yes… might as well get it over with, I almost got the poor girl killed anyway…”

“The poor _girl?_ ” Kermit barked. It was _her._ He knew it. He just _knew_ it.

Paul issued a long sigh from the other side of the line.

“A while ago… I got involved with someone. It was before I met Annie. Darla and I were already divorced and the girls were in Memphis with my mother”.

“Jesus _wept_ , Paul. And the soap opera’s plot thickens”. Kermit couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“I knew it wouldn’t take you too long to put two and two together…” Paul’s voice was heavy with guilt. “It seems I fathered a child. I swear to all that’s holy _I never knew,_ Kermit. You know me, I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t abandon my own flesh and blood”.

“Seeing how you took Peter and myself in, I’d have to agree”, Kermit said.

“She… never told me of the pregnancy. We… didn’t depart in the best of terms. She was a double-agent and… Well, you know how it was back then. Anyway, a few years ago I ran into Jing-Li’s brother. He’s—”

 _“Jing-Li?”_ Kermit cut in. “You mean to tell me you got involved with a _Chinese double-agent?_ Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Paul!”

“I know how it sounds. I… well, what’s done, is done. I was young and foolish”.

“How many times have I heard that excuse…”

“Indeed. As I was saying, Jing-Li’s brother is currently a top-ranking member of our government. Life does turn around, doesn’t it. We met at Rykker’s, actually, at a diplomatic party of some sort. He greeted me with contempt and informed me of Jing-Li’s death… _during childbirth._ He—he seemed to gloat in my shock. Seeing as she was not of pure Chinese blood, Jing-Li’s family decided not to keep the child. They gave her up for adoption. Once I knew, it didn’t take me long to find her. Apparently, our mutual friend didn’t have a problem, either”, Paul finished, bitterly.

“So, she was attacked tonight, is that it?” Kermit summarized, saving his pity for later.

“Yes… I had her tailed, you see, just as I had you two tailed.  My snitch was able to prevent the slaughter… with some outside assistance”.

“Caine?”

“Our good old Caine”, Blaisdell agreed.

“Is she alright?”

“A bit shaken, but unharmed as far as I can tell. The coward in me wants to let her think this was a failed mugging and let her get on with her life, but I know better. She needs to know why she was this close to being torn to pieces. One more thing I’m to blame for”.

Kermit felt his heart wringing inside his chest. The pain issuing from his long-time friend was palpable.

“This wasn’t your fault, Paul”, he said, knowing it wouldn’t get through. “I—er—Does Annie know about her?”

“Yes. I told her as soon as I found out. She said it happened before her time, and that any child of mine was hers. I— don’t deserve her”. Paul sounded close to tears.

“Yes, you do.  So, where is she? What am I asking… She’s at Caine’s, right?”

“She’s at Caine’s”.

 “I’ll pick you up. You sound like you’re in no fit state to drive. Besides, I’ve got a little confession of my own to make”.

And with that, Kermit hung up the phone.

 

He dressed in the first garments that crossed his path, combed his hair, donned his green glasses and left his apartment not looking back. He hopped into the Kermitmobile and sped off towards Paul’s house. Blaisdell was waiting for him standing in the driveway. Kermit filled him in on their way to Chinatown: his dreams, his increasing sense of foreboding, his conviction that the girl was real and that she reminded him of someone.

“Of course, the paranoid gland in the center of my brain tried to match her to a… less savory character. That’s what we do, right? Never did it occur to me to look closer”, Kermit gave a dry laugh, “but I don’t know how it slipped past me, Paul. She’s got your goddamned _eyes”._

He eased the Kermitmobile into the dead-end alley and both men left the car and climbed up the stairs leading to Caine’s place, coats billowing behind them. They approached the terrace window and Kermit stopped in his tracks almost against his will. Finally, there she was in the flesh, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a cup of tea in her hands, listening to the Ancient intently. Kermit turned to look at Paul, who was rooted to the spot as if trying to memorize his newfound daughter.

 

She was dressed in a loose blue surgery scrub, like the one she wore in Kermit’s dreams, and had her dark hair pulled up in a loose bun. Kermit could see a Burberry red winter coat discarded nearby, along with a bulky bag. Just like Peter, the girl didn’t really look Chinese. Maybe the slight yellowish tinge to her white skin or the dark, glossy hair might have hinted at her heritage, but if Kermit hadn’t known of it, he wouldn’t have guessed by looking at her. And now that he knew who her father was, the resemblance was too obvious to miss. He then noticed Caine who had appeared out of nowhere by the balcony window. He held out his hand and walked outside to join them.

“She… is not ready yet”, he stated simply. No one questioned what was it she wasn’t ready for.

“Will she be anytime soon?” Kermit asked. “We’re working on a time frame, here”.

“She will”, Caine said.

“How did you know she was in danger?” Paul asked.

“I… sensed her distress. And yours”, Caine said softly, bowing his head to both Kermit and Paul.

“Figures”, Kermit spat. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Do you know what is happening? What am I asking, of course you do!”

“I… do not know”, Caine said, and, as he saw Kermit sigh in exasperation, he added, “not… all of it, at least”.

“Well, what _do_ you know?

“You’ve been dreaming of her”.

“That sounds awfully corny when you put it that way”, Kermit retorted. “But yes, in essence, that’s correct. For over a month, now, and I’d love to know why”.

“You are like my son. You cannot stand not knowing”.

“Yes, well. To an extent, we were raised by the same man, so yeah, that might be the case. So?”

“So… What?”

“WHY AM I DREAMING OF HER?”

“I… do not know”.

“CAINE—!”

“Kermit—” Paul began, just as Peter appeared on top of the stairs and interjected:

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here? What, are we having a slumber party or something? Why is _everybody here?_ And why are you yelling your head off at Pop, Kermit?”

“Because he’s… he’s…” Kermit was at a loss of words. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

“You… know why you’re dreaming of her”, Caine said, putting a hand to Kermit’s shoulder.

“That can’t be the answer”, Kermit’s muffled reply came from behind his hands.

“It... is”.

“Someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?” Peter quipped in. “Dreaming of whom?”

Caine signaled to the inside of his small apartment, where the girl was still deep in conversation with the Ancient.                     

“Who is that?”

“She is… a friend”, Caine volunteered simply, “a friend in need”.

“Oh, I see”, Peter said. “So, why are you all here?”

“Because of her”, Paul said.

“She was attacked tonight and your Dad saved her”, Kermit quipped.

“Super Pop to the rescue”.

“Do _not_ call me Pop”. Caine said calmly, but his warning fell in deaf ears.

“And you’ve been dreaming of her, Kermit?” Peter frowned.

A slight sound came from inside the apartment, saving Kermit from the trouble of answering.

“Mr. Caine, I think I should— Oh. Good evening, gentlemen”, said the girl, poking her head out the window. Kermit flashed his wolfish grin, strode towards her, shook her hand and spoke:

“Good evening, miss. I’m Detective Kermit Griffin from 101st, this is Captain Paul Blaisdell and—”

“Peter”, he introduced himself simply.

“Could you tell us your name?” the one named Kermit Griffin asked.

“Sarah Greene”, she replied in a guarded voice. She fought off the need to laugh at the notion of such a guy sharing a name with a stuffed frog and avoided any comment on the subject whatsoever. She also decided not to comment on the fact that he was wearing dark-green sunglasses in the middle of the night. Unbeknownst to her, that earned her some points in Kermit’s estimation. So far, she had been the first person he’d met that hadn’t made a droll remark about his name _or_ his glasses.

“So, can you tell us what happened?”

Sarah turned to look at Caine.

“Not much, really… I was walking to my car, after work… I managed to open the car door and three guys came out of nowhere… I didn’t even have time to get my maze. Thank God Mr. Caine here was nearby and took care of them or I don’t think I would have lived to tell the tale. This other guy also came forward to see if I was alright, but then he disappeared”.

Kermit felt fury building inside him: _Three_ thugs against her? If he ever found them, he’d give them a cactus enema… and that would be after he tore their tracheas with his bare hands, rolled them in honey and dumped them inside a flesh-eating ant farm. _Focus, Sir Galahad,_ he told himself. He felt Caine’s amused gaze fixed on him and he blushed as he was sure Caine had just read his thoughts.

“So, they didn’t try to steal anything from you?” he said, to cover his embarrassment.

“No… they couldn’t be less interested. They seemed to be in for the fun of it, really”.

Do you think you could ID them?” Kermit asked, not daring to hope. But she surprised him.

“Oh, yeah”, she replied, unknowingly mimicking his own trademark interjection. “I’m not likely to forget their faces in a hurry. And I’m good with faces, too”, she finished.

“Are you an artist?” Paul spoke for the first time.

“No, sir, I’m a doctor, actually. I just have this thing with faces… For instance, you”, and she pointed at Peter, “You share Mr. Caine’s nose and eye shape, so I daresay you’re related”.

“Yes, he’s my father, but hardly anyone believes that, especially when they first meet us”, Peter said, with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“She sees beyond”, Caine replied.

 _’She’d better not see beyond Paul’s eyes or she’ll be in for a treat’_ , Kermit thought. But Paul had kept himself at a distance, and now Kermit was beginning to wonder if he’d tell her at all. He decided to wrap up the conversation to give him the chance.

“Well, that’s settled, then. Maybe you could stop by the precinct tomorrow so we can work on a portrait?”

“Maybe I could, after my shift”, she replied.

He gifted her with another wolfish grin.

“Well, I think I’d better go, now”, she said. “I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow”.

“We’ll drive you”, Kermit quipped in brightly.

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary, after all, my car is still in the parking lot and it’s really not that far from here…”

“We’ll drive you to the parking lot, then”, Kermit insisted, his smile stretched to the point of breaking. If he had his way, Sarah Greene would be going home with a full police escort, sirens blaring and traffic moving aside for them… but she didn’t need to know that just yet. He did his very best to ignore Peter’s ogling.

“Oh… alright, then”, she gave in. “Thank you so much for everything, Mr. Caine. I can’t thank you enough”.

“There is nothing to thank, Sarah”, Caine replied. “I am glad to have been of service”.

He bowed to her and retreated to his apartment. The Ancient Lo Si waved cheerfully goodbye from inside.

“You are always welcome here for tea!” he yelled, as Caine nudged him softly on the ribs.

“Thanks— um, Mr. Si; I’ll be around!”

“The nerve of him…!” Peter mumbled, “Wanna come for the ride, Pop?” he added, “I came to take you to dinner, didn’t expect to find the whole cavalry here…”

Caine shrugged and looked at Kermit.

“Sure, why not, we could use a bodyguard, couple of rusty ex-mercenaries like us…” he said, dripping sarcasm. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Sarah was paying close attention to the exchange, filing away the information to examine later. _Well, I wonder whose daughter is she,_ he thought, sarcastic mode still firmly in place. “After you, sweetcakes”, he said out loud.

“Sweetcakes?” she inquired half-smiling as they walked down the stairs.

“Yeah… cool nickname, uh? My grandma used to call us that, and it stuck. Nothing personal”, Kermit replied.

“Oh, so that’s where it comes from?” Peter said.

“Oh, yeah!”

Sarah got to Kermit’s green Corvair and stopped to admire it.

“This is a really neat car”, she said and Kermit’s smile almost touched his ears. Peter was worried now. He hadn’t seen Kermit smile so much since Emma, and they all knew how _that_ had ended.

“Yeah, that’s the Kermitmobile”, Peter said, flashing his own killer smile. “Green ride for a Greene lady, how do you like that”.

Sarah gifted Peter with a withering look Paul would have been proud of and said nothing.

  _Aw, Pete, that was lame. Nicky Elder could have done it better,_ he chastised himself, but he knew from experience he could have been reciting the phone book and, one look at his smile would make ninety-nine percent of the chicks fall for him anyway. Miffed at the ineffectiveness of his usual charm, Peter squeezed into the back seat along Paul and Caine, leaving Sarah to sit next to Kermit in the front. When he closed her door for her and circled the car to get in, he was actually whistling. Peter turned to look at Paul and Caine in amazement, waiting for some sort of explanation, but both of them pointedly ignored him.

 

They drove to County General Hospital’s parking lot in silence, despite Peter’s frequent efforts to start a conversation. Sarah stared out the window the whole way and only then did it occur to Kermit that she’d been way too composed and calmed after an experience that would have put most people in search of the nearest shrink.

“Miss Greene”, he began. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I guess so, yes”, she said. “I think it hasn’t sunk in yet. I wonder what they wanted, though. Why did they choose me”.

There it was the sixty-four-million-dollar question. They had gotten to the parking lot and Sarah’s car stood alone in a row of spaces in the back. Kermit parked next to it, turned off the Corvair, stepped off, opened Sarah’s door and helped her out. Paul finally made up his mind and spoke from inside the vehicle:

“Ah, Miss Greene— Sarah— as to your last question… I might have the answer, but it requires a long chat in a more appropriate place. You will go by the precinct tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I will”.

“Perhaps we can talk then?”

“Of course, Captain”, she smiled. “Well, Detective Griffin, thank you for the ride”, she finished, holding out her hand. Kermit took it and stared at her freely from behind his dark glasses.

“You’re welcome. So, perhaps I could escort you home?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He replayed what he’d just said in his head and fought off the urge to bite his lip. He had come off as a complete creep.

“Um… no, thank you”, she said politely, but with a guarded expression, “I think I’ll be fine now”.

“Of course you will, Sweetcakes. Do stop by the Precinct tomorrow, we have to work on that portrait”.

“I’ll do my best”, she said. She grabbed her car keys from a pocket of her red coat, opened the car door and tossed her bulky bag all the way to the passenger’s seat. Kermit held the door open for her to climb in the car and then closed it softly.

“See you tomorrow, then”.

“Sure. Bye-bye!”

 

Kermit stood alone in the parking lot until he could no longer see Sarah’s little car’s tail-lights. He returned slowly to his own car, his previous effervescence gone. _Way to blow it, genius,_ he told himself.

“So, Romeo”, Peter quipped as soon as Kermit got inside the Corvair, “what was _that_ all about?

“What are you talking about?” Kermit snapped.

“Oh? Those weren’t fireworks I saw between you two?”

“You’re out of your mind”, Kermit growled as he started the engine.

“Come _on_ , Kermit, you _whistled!”_ Peter exclaimed. “You wanted to escort her home! And tell me, just when have you _ever_ gone to interrogate a victim on your night off before?”  He finished, adding the final nail into the proverbial coffin.

“This is different” Kermit cut in, harshly. “She—”

“Do you know her?” Peter asked.

“In a way” Kermit replied. Paul cleared his throat and Caine, rather incongruously, started to whistle.

“Will you three please tell me what is going on here?” Peter claimed.

 _“Fine!”_ Kermit almost yelled, his nerves stretched beyond resistance, “Here goes nothing.  She’s your freaking _sister_ , Peter, and I’ve been dreaming of her for a month like a complete pervert. Of course, your father knew all about it, and now she’s been tagged by Atherton to get back at Paul”, Kermit finished his rant and threw his glasses aside to rub his eyes.

“Wh—WHAT?”

“Jesus, Kermit, you could have eased him into it…” Paul said.

“Eased him into it? Hardly. He’s nagged long enough”.

“You weren’t this easy to crack back… _then_ ”, Paul pointed out.

“No, but he’s unbearable!” Kermit groaned. Paul hid a smile, for he was beginning to guess the reason behind Kermit’s sulkiness.

 “Sister? _SISTER?”_ apparently, that was all Peter had heard. _“POP?”_

“No, my son” Caine spoke for the first time since they had left his apartment.

“No, Peter, I’m afraid she is _my_ daughter, although I didn’t know it myself until recently…” Paul intervened.

“But… Why— _how?”_

So, Paul filled Peter in.

“You _dog_ , Paul!!” Peter exclaimed when he heard the whole story. “And why are you dreaming about her, Kermit?”

“How should _I_ know?” Kermit grouched. “ _I’m_ not the one with mystic heritage!”

“Your chis are entwined”, Caine supplied.

“Ooooh, so your chis are entwined?” Peter teased.

“Will you give it up?” Kermit growled, blushing to the roots of his hair.

 

Paul and Caine looked at each other. _‘Boys will be boys’;_ their half-concealed smiles seemed to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah walked into the welcoming darkness of her living room.

Her apartment was small and scarcely decorated. It held bookcases that rose all the way to the ceiling and swarmed with books. She had had the carpets removed (a concession to her allergies), and she’d placed roman curtains on the windows, but that was just about it. She liked to keep things simple. She went to roll down the nearest curtain and dropped her bag into a chair. A gray dog napping on the sofa raised his ears, opened one eye and wagged his tail in greeting.

“Hey, Bailey”, she said, coming to scratch his furry head. “How was your day?”

The dog yawned in response. He was of mixed race, and there was probably a Siberian Husky in his genealogic tree, and maybe even a Pitbull or perhaps a Boxer, as he was rather sturdy and heavy, with pointed hears and a long snout, and round blue eyes that shone among his thick bush of gray fur. He looked like a small and plump wolf.

“Pretty uneventful, uh”, Sarah said. “Well, mine was rather interesting. Want some dinner while I tell you about it?”

Bailey wagged his tail, stretched luxuriously and hopped off the sofa. He followed his human to the kitchen, where he watched her pour the contents of a dog food can into his bowl as she cooed him:

“Come on, Bailey, come on! Dinner’s ready!”

Bailey went to his usual dining spot and started eating, while Sarah rummaged in the fridge in search for something to eat herself.

“I really need to go grocery-shopping”, she mumbled to herself. “Well, as I was saying, Bailey, Mama’s had quite a night. She was almost mugged but was rescued by some odd-looking old man. Actually, the guy kicked the stuffing out of those fellows, now that I think of it… Pretty impressive for an old guy, don’t you think?”

Bailey spared half a second from his meal to turn and look at her. Then, he went back to gorging himself.

“No one is taking it away from you” Sarah chided him. “Take it easy”.

Bailey was a rescue dog. Sarah had found him roaming around the hospital’s parking lot and had taken him with her, and although she doted on him, the dog hadn’t quite grasped the fact that he was no longer in risk of starving.

 

Sarah took a seat at the kitchen table and stared at the salad she’d just fixed with her brow furrowed. Granted, she was the first to admit her reactions were a bit delayed, but this was something else. It was only now that she questioned the fact that two detectives —well, one, rather, since Peter had turned out to be Caine’s son—, _and_ a Police Captain had appeared out of the blue in Caine’s little apartment to question her on the events. Caine did not own a telephone and neither of them had called the Police. Sarah was sure of that. So… how had they known? And the bespectacled man named Kermit and his insistence on accompanying her home… If Sarah didn’t know better, she could have sworn Kermit was flirting with her.

She gave a heavy sigh, stuffed the contents of her plate into her mouth without really tasting the food, and headed to her room to do her evening ablutions and get to bed. She hadn’t been lying to Kermit; she _did_ have to wake up at the crack of down.

 

~§~

 

“Who do I have to kill to get this goddamned coffee machine fixed?” Kermit growled for the umpteenth time that morning. He was in a foul mood. He hadn’t slept at all; his mind presenting him with multiple scenarios of what could have been Sarah’s destiny if Caine hadn’t helped her, each more horrifying than the next. This gray wave of fatalism hadn’t engulfed him since his mercenary days, and the experience had been as unpleasant now as it was before. When he’d finally given up any hopes of sleep, he’d walked into his bathroom to find himself showering in ice-cold water. Boy, oh, boy, was that super getting hell from him when he found him… And of course, the stupid coffee machine was still out cold. The world was out to piss him off.

 _Why don’t you just admit that you’re scared she won’t come?_ The random thought floated to the surface of his mind and he waved off his hand, as if trying to get rid of it. _Of course_ that wasn’t _it._ Please! _No… what’s bugging you is that you feel attracted to your father figure’s_ daughter. _How’s_ that _for a Freudian predicament?_

“Someone’s coming to replace it later today”, Skalany chipped in from her desk, cutting into his thoughts, “they promised”.

“I need that coffee _now_ , not later today” Kermit spat.

Skalany stared. Kermit’s short temper was legendary, but he was always a perfect gentleman where women were concerned. In fact, he was known for kicking the shit out of anyone who’d dare to be discourteous to a woman in his presence, so there was that, something was definitely bugging him enough to forget his manners.

“Well, Jody and I were planning on going to the coffee house and grab a bite before going on stake-out… Want me to bring you something?” Skalany offered.

“Sure… Thanks, Skalany. I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you”.

“No probs. Triple espresso, right?”

“That’s right. Thanks, you’re a life saver”.

 

Kermit retreated into his office and sat in front of his computer. His skilled fingers flew over the keyboard as he summoned the file he’d compiled about Sarah. Everything there was to know about her, at the reach of his hands.

 Sarah Andrea Greene, early thirties, black hair, grayish-blue eyes. She had been born around mid-year, and adopted by William and Jillian Greene when she was two weeks old. She was their only child.  She had grown to become a member of her high school’s swimming team. She was an animal rights’ advocate and she had graduated in the top group of her class, from a rather prestigious Medical School. She was currently employed at County General. She was a fan of e-mail accounts, apparently, as Kermit had found at least thirty originated from her IP address. She spent quite a while online, browsing through a wide variety of subjects. She had a fair load of friends and she seemed to get along fine with people. Non-smoker, but she didn’t chastise those how did. She did seem to enjoy an occasional drink. She had a couple of parking tickets, dutifully paid within the time frame. In short, a law-abiding citizen, with above-average intelligence, a good support network, and most importantly, single, which suited Kermit just fine.

“Here’s your coffee, Kermit”, Skalany spoke from the door, startling him. It was only his finely-honed skill at remaining impassive that prevented Skalany from noticing it. But she did manage to catch a glimpse of the file he hastily hid from view with a click.

“She a suspect?” she asked.

Kermit hesitated.

“Hardly, she’s a victim, actually”.

“And why are you snooping in her life, then?”

“It’s… part of the investigation, milady. Thanks for the coffee”.

“Yeah, sure, anything that stops you from turning into the Hulk, Froggy Boy”, Skalany joked, but nearly choked on her laughter as she saw the original of the photo she’d just seen on Kermit’s screen walking into the Precinct, wearing a black trench coat over her blue scrubs. She stopped at Broderick’s desk and he pointed towards the back, where Kermit and Blaisdell’s offices were located. The girl thanked him and walked in their direction resolutely.

“Hey, Kermit”, Skalany whispered. “Your victim’s here”.

Kermit stood up, glasses firmly in place and hoping to God he wasn’t blushing.

“Go tell Blaisdell Miss Greene is here, will you?” he asked Skalany, partly to get rid of her, but also because Paul needed to speak to Sarah as well.

“Blaisdell? But—”

“Go, Mary Margaret. Please”.

“All right… Well, she must be someone important, then”, Skalany concluded to herself. Her meddling instincts caused her to remain behind to watch Miss Greene stepping into Kermit’s office and one glance at Mr. Computer’s sheepish smile and blushing cheeks told her everything she needed to know.

“Who would have thought? Oh… Jody…! JODY!” Skalany screeched, dying to convey to her friend this newfound piece of information.

 

“Miss Greene!” said Kermit, rather formally. “Welcome to my humble den!”

“Sarah, detective”, she said. “And thank you”.

“You’re welcome. And it’s Kermit”.

“Kermit”.

 _No, I’m not imagining it_ , Sarah thought. _There’s definitely something going on here._

“So! Are you ready to work on those portraits?”

“As ready as I will ever be, I guess”.

“Well, then… um…” Kermit lifted a pile of papers, computer magazines and various folders from the chair across his, “have a sit, won’t you?”

“Sure, thanks”, Sarah took the proffered seat and watched in amusement as Kermit walked around his office, haphazardly lifting and dropping stuff all over the place. _Well, this is a first. I’ve been told I make men nervous, but come on! He’s a cop!_ She thought.

Kermit finally sat in front of her and started typing at flash speed.

“I designed this program myself”, he informed her. “It works as a standard facial recognition program but we can also make a sketch from scratch. And then compare it to the database”.

“And have you patented it?”

“Uh?”

“Well, you could make a good business out of it if you’d sell it to the force— sorry, that’s my Dad speaking through me”, Sarah said.

Kermit eyed her thoughtfully, wondering if she knew she was adopted, and whether the circumstances of her adoption had been disclosed to her.

“He’s a business man, your father?”

“Oh, yeah” there she was again, unknowingly mimicking him, “Among other things. I don’t think he taught me well, though. I have no brain for figures and numbers” Kermit smiled, and she finished: “I guess it’s true that some things are passed on, not taught”.

“As in…?”

“Oh, he’s not my real father”, Sarah said, “I was adopted as a small child. They’ve been great parents”.

“I’m sure”, Kermit agreed, “Now, if you could look at this face and tell me if it resembles that of your attacker?”

“Let’s see…” Sarah leaned forward and Kermit caught a whiff or her perfume. He had to fight the urge to breathe in deeply. “Well, it resembles one of them…” she murmured, “Maybe with a slightly larger chin? Do you know, I’ve been wondering why didn’t they use masks?”

Kermit didn’t have the heart to tell her they hadn’t expected her to survive and identify them.

“Well, I guess they were confident they were going to whack me”, she said, off-handedly. “And if it wasn’t for Caine, they would have”.

Kermit closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the thought. He was thankful for his dark glasses. He kept on typing, elongating the face’s chin, adding facial hair, thick eyebrows, pale blue eyes, receding hair line and light-blond wavy hair. She really had a thing with faces. Under her direction, the face of Isaac Justin, Atherton’s main hitman, appeared on the screen, closely followed by two other thugs Kermit couldn’t ID at first glance.

“I’ll just have these printed and we’ll put an APB on them”, he said, “I expect we’ll round them up in no time”.

“And then what?”

“Well, then you’d have to pick them up in line so we can nail them, but let’s catch them first”, Kermit knew _that_ was the tricky part.

“Oh, I see. So, now can I know why did they pick me?”’

“Indeed you can, Miss Greene”, spoke Paul Blaisdell from the door. He eased inside and closed it behind him, a somber look in his heavy-lidded eyes. Kermit tensed in anticipation and grabbed his forgotten cup of coffee from the desk. He took a sip and grimaced. The beverage was stone cold.

“Miss Greene”, Paul began without preamble. “I’m not good at stalling or sugarcoating things. In my line of work that’s regarded as a handicap and furthermore, I simply lack the ability, so I’ll go straight to the point. Thirty years ago, before I was part of the Police Force, a series of events unraveled that resulted in my involvement with a Chinese double agent. A child was born from that… association, for lack of a better word”.

“I assume that child would be me”, Sarah summarized simply. Kermit stared at her from behind his dark glasses. That had been quick. She was Paul’s daughter, no doubt.

“Yes, Miss Greene, it is you”.

“I see”. That was all she said. No crying, no melodramatic scene. She mulled it over for a few minutes trying to make some sense of it and then spoke again: “You mentioned she— my biological mother—, was a double agent. And yesterday Kermit said you were a couple of ex-mercenaries”, Kermit’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead in silent amazement. “So, I gather the attack upon me was some sort of retaliation?”

“That’s our theory, yes”.

“And how do those who sent them know that you—that I’m—?”

“The same way I learned about you”, Paul said. “Someone else told them”.

“Can I just ask— How long have you known?”

Paul sighed.

“A couple of years; I know I should have reached out, but it seemed quite unfair for me to just waltz into your life and disrupt it. I did a thorough research and you seemed to be reasonably happy. I didn’t want to bring any trouble by making it known that you were related to me. And still I couldn’t stop this from happening”.

“I understand. And my mother—?”

“She died during childbirth, as far as I know”.

“Well, at least they got that part of the story right” Sarah said, with only the smallest hint of bitterness.

“ _That_ part of the story right?” Paul inquired.

“Well, of course they had to say _something”_ , Sarah replied, “as to explain why was I up for adoption in the first place. So I was told my mother had died giving birth to me—and that my father had wanted nothing to do with me”, she finished, not quite meeting Paul’s eyes.

Kermit felt the need to stand up for the man who had stepped in as his substitute father, and who had raised Peter as his own son, but one look at Paul’s face made him stop in his tracks.

“Sarah”, Paul spoke. “I know there’s nothing I can do or say to make you believe me, but I truly had no idea of your existence, and I swear to you, had I known, I would have claimed you”.

Sarah managed a small smile.

“Paul is nothing if not a great parent”, Kermit quipped, unable to help himself, “I can tell you that firsthand, and so can Peter”.

Paul thanked him with a look and Sarah frowned as she tried to make some sense of what Kermit had said. She had thought Peter was Caine’s son. Her train of thoughts was interrupted when Paul spoke shyly:

“So… can your old man get a hug?”

“Sure… Dad”, Sarah replied, standing up to melt into a hug that was both awkward and endearing. Kermit averted his eyes as to allow them some privacy, a rather large part of him wishing it was his arms around her. He didn’t even chastise himself at the thought, which only came to prove how at ease his mind was with the idea of them both together. The fact that he knew her mainly through his dreams didn’t seem to bother him.

Jody Powell poked her head inside Kermit’s office and it was all she could do to conceal her surprise at the sight of her Captain hugging a girl who, according to Skalany, was a mugging victim and Kermit’s newest love interest. Jody cleared her throat to make her presence known.

“Um—Captain?”

Paul and Sarah let go of each other. Paul straightened his blazer, patted Sarah on the shoulder, gave her a smile and turned to Jody.

“Yes?”

“Commissioner Kincaid is waiting on line two, sir. He says it’s urgent”.

“Yes, thank you, Detective. I’ll be there in a minute”. He turned to Sarah. “Well, duty calls, my girl. When waters calm down, you must come to dinner. Annie and the girls are most anxious to meet you”.

“Will do, thank you”, Sarah replied.

Paul bent forward to kiss her on the cheek and then followed a very flabbergasted Jody outside Kermit’s office. Jody barely had time to mouth the words _‘what is going on’_ to Kermit before he unceremoniously closed the door, shaking his head at Jody in silent denial.

“Well, that is a lot to take in”, Kermit said, turning back to Sarah. “It was fast, the way you caught on”.

“Was I rude by interrupting him?” Sarah asked. “I just didn’t think I could sit with a straight face through a Darth Vaderish remark… _‘Sarah, I… am your FATHER!’_ you know? _”_

Kermit actually laughed out loud at that.

“Oh, yeah! That would have been a sight to behold!”

Sarah gifted him with a smile.

“So… what do we do now?”

“The plot is thickening”, Kermit said, “as you can see for yourself. You’re in danger, melodramatic as that sounds, and we have got to keep you safe. We’ll think of something…. Perhaps Caine could be of use for a change”.

“He’s quite a character, isn’t he”.

“Oh, yeah” Kermit fell silent for a moment and then decided to throw all the steaks into the grill: _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , as good old Rykker might have said. “Listen, I was wondering—” suddenly Kermit was finding very hard to keep his eyes focused on her, despite his dark glasses, “maybe we could go for a cup of coffee, give you a chance to mull this over, maybe even learn some things about your new-found Daddy”.

Sarah’s perceptive smile spoke volumes. Kermit feared he’d soon be able to cook an egg on his face.

“This will sound terribly unladylike”, Sarah said, “but, are you hitting on me, Detective Griffin?”

 _Here goes nothing,_ Kermit thought and replied:

“Yes. Is it working?”

She gave a laugh, not entirely seductive, not quite nervous either.

“We’ll see. Do you know a good coffee house?”

“Sweetcakes”, Kermit puffed out his chest, “you’re looking at the only coffee gourmet in a ten-mile radius”.

“Well, then! Surprise me!”

Kermit stood up, pushed up his glasses, straightened his tie and offered his arm to Sarah.

“I’ll be damned!” she said, apparently without thinking.

“What?”

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen a guy do that in real life!”

“Is it, now? You’d better get used to it”. Wolfish grin firmly in place, Kermit opened the door, eased her through and marched her across the hall, positively enjoying the flabbergasted look in his colleagues’ faces. He had to fight hard to suppress a guffaw when he caught Jody and Skalany scuttling to follow them, the blonde detective frantically rummaging through her purse in search for her stake-out camera.

“Don’t bother, Jody, I’ll send you a picture later, OK?” Kermit couldn’t resist and only smiled at Sarah’s surprised gaze. They walked out the front door to the Kermitmobile, where Kermit, always the gentleman, opened the passenger’s seat door for Sarah, closed it after she’d climbed in and positively waltzed his way towards his own seat. He even waved at the small crowd of people gawking at them from the threshold.

“I take it you don’t entertain much?” Sarah said.

“No, not much”, Kermit said, remembering the last time he’d surprised the Precinct like that. He firmly suppressed the memory. “We’ll be the main theme for days at Delancey’s”.

“That’s the Cop Bar, right?”

“Oh, yeah”.

Kermit drove through quiet streets until they reached a small house in a cul-de-sac. It was in bad need of a coat of paint, there were doves plucking half-heartedly at the dirt, and the entire building seemed to creak, threatening to fall at the smallest provocation.

“It doesn’t look like much, but they serve the best _affogato_ you’ll ever taste”, Kermit said.

“It’s like a refuge, isn’t it?”

Kermit merely looked at her. She just cut to the chase every time, and like Caine said, she saw beyond, and wasn’t afraid of it. It was… refreshing, if a little scary.

“In a way, I guess it is”, he replied.

“Well, then, I’m honored”.

“What for?”

“Well, I don’t think you share your refuge with just anyone”.

And there she was again.

“You’re Paul’s daughter, through and through”, Kermit said.

 

They walked in and the intense aroma of coffee enveloped them. The local was almost empty, so Kermit, still arm in arm with Sarah, led her to ‘his” table in the far right corner, pulled out a chair for her and sat across her.

They ordered two _affogati_ , and Sarah’s gaze dropped to her hands while she considered how to direct her next question. She decided that direct approach was the best course of action, so she began to speak, still looking at her hands. Kermit was a rather imposing man, despite the droll name, the old fashioned navy-blue suit, the red tie and the white socks and brown, sensible shoes that seemed to be either his armor or his chosen uniform… or perhaps a little bit of both.

“So… you said you had some firsthand experience on Paul’s fatherly skills?”

 

She felt she was entitled to ask. After all, Kermit had been present when she had been told the truth of her origins. She felt thankful for his dark shades, as she could still feel the intensity of his gaze on her despite them, and she wasn’t sure she would have been able to look at his face directly without those glasses.

“That’s right, Sweetcakes”, Kermit replied with a small smile. “He took it upon himself to step in as a surrogate father after my own’s demise. They were… very close friends”.

Kermit told her about his father’s first acquaintance with Paul back in the first days of Nam, when they were both CIA agents working undercover in a top secret mission that involved the protection of certain scientist.

“Sounds rather 007, I know”, Kermit said, self-mockingly, “but the truth is that life is anything but romantic. Anyway, something went wrong in that mission. They were betrayed, the original Falcon Wing— that’s what they called themselves back then—”, he clarified, “was shattered to pieces and my father was killed. Paul swore to him he’d look after us so he could die in peace. By then, Paul was single, and I think he fully intended to remain that way”.

Sarah looked as if she wanted to say something, but remained silent.

“So”, Kermit continued, “Paul became, to all means and purposes, my father. My mother died when I was younger, so we had no one to look up to. My baby sister took care of our youngest brother, and I set off to put food on the table. I guess it was only natural that I should end up in the Agency under Paul’s wing”.

 

Kermit suddenly realized that he was talking about himself, something he seldom did. It wasn’t precisely awkward, but he backpedaled nonetheless.

“He’s a good man, Sarah”, he said. “He was truly anguished at the thought of you getting hurt on his account”.

“I can see he’s a good man. He’s got benevolent eyes”.

“That he seems to have passed onto you. Of all his children, you’re the only one who has his eyes, you know”.

“Odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That… I’ve noticed that ‘natural’ children almost always look exactly like their biological parents, even more so than legally recognized children. It’s almost as if Mother Nature wanted to broadcast the fact that you left a child lying around”.

Kermit smiled in understanding.

“Mother Nature has got a quirky sense of humor”, he said.

“Up to a certain age”, Sarah continued, “it’s perfectly normal to believe one is adopted. In fact, almost ninety-percent of children think they don’t belong to their families at least once in their lives. It’s like a mean to explain to oneself, if rather in a fantastic way, why someone who’s supposed to love and nurture you, also punishes you. As in _‘my real parents wouldn’t ground me, you’re mean to me because you’re not my parents’._

“I see”, Kermit said, not taking his eyes off her.

“But with me, the feeling went deeper and remained. My parents are great, but I never, ever felt like I belonged with them”.

Kermit, who had experienced the feeling on occasion, nodded in agreement, and said he could relate.

“So now, I’m glad I’ve found my roots, but a part of me feels guilty that I’m glad, and dreads having to tell my parents so”.

“Where are they?”

“They’re in Switzerland. My father is a diplomatic attaché. They wanted me to go with them, but I was half-way through Med School when Dad was appointed, and I couldn’t bring myself to quit and start over. So I remained behind”.

Kermit felt profoundly grateful that she had, but of course, he didn’t say it out loud.

“You weren’t lying”, Sarah said suddenly. “This is the best _affogato_ I’ve ever had!”

Kermit beamed.

“I’d never lie to you, Sweetcakes”.

 

Something deep in Sarah stirred and purred in satisfaction each time Kermit called her that. _Get a grip, will you,_ she chastised herself. _He probably calls that every girl he meets._

“So… You live alone?” Kermit asked nonchalantly.

“Yep… Just Bailey and I”, Sarah answered with an amused tone.

“I’m not prying”, Kermit said at once. “Well, I am, but not for the reasons you’d think”.

“And what would those reasons be?” Sarah asked, openly smiling now.

“Well, that I— that maybe you… That— Damn it! I mean, due to recent events, it might be safer for you if you’d find somewhere else to stay, some place with company”.

Sarah bit her lip. Obviously Kermit wasn’t a man used to be stumped, and apparently he didn’t take kindly to confusion and stuttering.

“Well, that might be true…” she mused. “I’ll think about it”.

“Don’t take too long. You haven’t seen Paul’s overprotective Daddy persona yet”.

 _No, but I’m getting a glimpse of yours,_ Sarah thought amusedly.

“So, you told me he does have his own children?” she said instead.

“Oh, yeah, Kelly and Carolyn, they’re very nice kids. And Annie is something else, you’ll love her”.

“That’s my—his wife?”

“Oh, yeah, Annie is his second wife, stepmom to Kel and Lyn, and Peter. And to me, I guess, to some extent”.

“And now, to myself as well”, Sarah pointed out.

“Oh, yeah!” Kermit interjected for the third time in a row. “Do you know what she said to Paul, when he told him about you? She said any child of his was hers as well. She couldn’t have any children, but she did one hell of a job raising Paul’s. She is blind”, Kermit added as an afterthought. “But you can hardly tell”.

“She sounds like someone I’d like to meet. What happened to the first wife?”

“Divorced. Nasty, ugly thing that was. Darla… well, let’s just say she wasn’t suited for marriage and motherhood, and she definitely wasn’t suited for Paul. She just took off, leaving two little girls behind, and crushed Paul to the bone marrow. He really wanted things to work out from what I know”.

“That’s a pity” Sarah said. “Luckily he met Annie”.

“Oh, yeah! You can say that again”.

 

Kermit looked at the clock on the wall behind Sarah and was surprised to learn it was nearly seven o’ clock in the afternoon. They had been talking for more than four hours, which was a remarkable feat for him. Sarah noticed his gesture, looked down at her own wristwatch and let out a soft exclamation.

“I can’t believe it. _Cliché_ as it sounds, time does fly—”

“When you’re having a good time?” Kermit interjected, unable to suppress a hopeful smile. “Why, thank you, Sweetcakes. I am honored”.

“But… don’t you need to be somewhere else? I mean— I’m not keeping you or anything, am I?”

“No, Sweetcakes. One of the perks of being the resident computer geek and moody ex-mercenary of the 101st is that I have my own schedule”.

“I see”.

Sarah remained silent for a moment and then added:

“How come a mercenary became a Police Detective?”

“That’s— another story for another time”, Kermit replied airily. In truth, he really didn’t want to scare her off. “Maybe sometime I’ll tell you about it over another _affogato_ ”.

“That’s a deal, then”, Sarah replied, and Kermit’s heart lifted at the success of his little maneuver, that had just won him a second date with her.

It really was getting late, and they had to head back to the 101st so Sarah could pick up her own car and drive home, so Kermit asked for the check, paid the bill, heeding not Sarah’s offer to go dutch, and stood up to help her off her chair.

“Was it my— Paul who instilled such good manners in you?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah!” Kermit boomed genially as they walked together towards the green Corvair.


	4. Chapter 4

 

The coffee machine was still broken, and the guy who had promised to replace it was nowhere to be found, but for once, Kermit didn’t even comment on the subject. He waltzed though the desks towards his sanctuary, positively ignoring his colleagues’ amazed gawking. He had been through the same thing with Emma, and though part of him considered he ought to feel insulted at the seemingly general assumption that he was incapable of getting the girl, the truth was it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Last evening with Sarah had been like something out of a dream, corny as that sounded. Never had he allowed himself to even entertain the thought of sharing _that much_ with anyone else; and he had found the experience quite enjoyable. Sarah was a good listener, a great conversationalist, and, in Kermit’s eyes at least, absolutely breathtaking. No one in his right mind would be as bold as to call her beautiful, but to Kermit she was incredibly alluring. It was all he could do to refrain himself from taking her into his arms and kiss her senseless last night, but he really didn’t want to screw things up with her, so he’d have to take it slow. He didn’t trust his instincts —the memory of Emma’s betrayal and how he’d completely missed the telltale signs was still fresh in his mind—, but something deep within him was convinced that he had found It: that thing humans searched for their whole lives had providentially fallen into his lap and was his for the taking, if he played it right… which he intended to do, thank you very much.

“Earth to Kermit!” from afar, he heard Peter Caine’s voice cutting through his fantasies.

“Uh? What?” he snapped.

“I’ve been trying to reach you in your galaxy far, far away for half an hour”, Peter said. “You OK?”

“Oh, yeah”, Kermit quipped, and added as an excuse: “I haven’t had any coffee this morning”.

“Well, grab your coat and we’ll get you a cup on the way”, Peter said. “Donny gave me a lead on Justin”.

Kermit went on high alert: Isaac Justin, Atherton’s hitman, one of the men that had tried to hurt Sarah.

“What are Paul’s orders regarding him?” Kermit asked before his Sir Galahad Syndrome got the worst of him. “Is this going to be a Police matter or should we… make him an offer he can’t refuse?”

“Your blood-thirsty instincts mess up mi chi”, Peter said, mockingly imitating his father’s voice. “Of course it is a Police matter! He attacked someone, the lady filed a claim, so, we find the bastard and book him!”

“When did you become such a law-abiding cop, anyway?” Kermit growled disappointedly.

“Oh, well, so much meditation had to kick in at some point”, Peter said, flashing his boyish smile. “After I resigned from the precinct and went full-on Shaolin  a couple of years ago, I realized how many things I did wrong the first time around… which is why I intend to go by the book now that I am back. So! Are we going to bust him or are we going to keep jabbering away like a couple of spinsters?”

“Speak for yourself”, Kermit said without thinking.

“Oh? What’s that I hear?”

“Mind your own business”, Kermit grumbled.

“It _is_ my business, Kermit the Frog”, Peter said dangerously. “After all, it _is my sister_ we’re talking about. Remember when you told me if I touched _your_ sister you’d be, and I quote, _‘forced to terminate my existence?’_ Well! Right back atcha, pal!”

Peter slammed his hand hard into Kermit’s shoulder and the ex-mercenary winced inwardly. Never in a million light-years had he dreamed that one would backfire.

“Give it up. I can still whack you and throw you into the river wearing cement loafers”, Kermit said, only half-jokingly.

“Not a Shaolin cop, you can’t”, Peter replied in a sing-song voice. “And in any case, threatening me isn’t the best way to get on my good side”.

“I don’t need your blessing, you nosy brat. Just—”

“Just… whose, Paul’s?” Peter exclaimed, “God, Kermit… you— you really mean it, don’t you?”

“Mean what”, Kermit spoke flatly.

“You have feelings for her! I mean, it’s not just a crush or something—right? You’re in love with her”.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to call it love”, Kermit said, as a voice screamed _‘LIAR!’_ in his head. “But yes, if you must know, I am very attracted to her, something I didn’t think it would happen again after Emma, so… to say I’m a bit wary is an understatement”.

Peter dropped his big brother stance and patted Kermit on the shoulder.

“Just go with the flow, Kermit. Things will go naturally if you don’t force them. After all, Pop did say your chis were entwined, didn’t he? That’s as much as saying you’re meant for each other, and it doesn’t get any better than that”.

“I guess you’re right. Look at us, speaking of love like a couple of forlorn teenagers. Let’s go bust someone!”

“Aye, aye!” Peter saluted Kermit mockingly and followed him out of his office. Before getting into his Stealth, he couldn’t resist one last bit of teasing and asked cheekily:

“And? Have you… you know… _entwined_ your chis yet?”

Kermit blushed to the roots of his hair at the innuendo, but resisted the temptation of both breaking the younger cop’s jaw and dignifying his taunt with an answer.

 

~§~

 

True to her word, Sarah donned on a pair of comfy shoes, put on her thickest overcoat as it was very cold out, strapped Bailey to his leash and marched herself to Chinatown to pay the Ancient and Caine a visit. Bailey enjoyed the walk tremendously, sniffing at trees and seemingly uninteresting specks of dust, and barking at passerby.

It was at Caine’s scarcely furnished apartment, with a cup of steaming herbal tea in her hands, where Sarah learned about the temple’s destruction and the events that ended with Peter becoming Paul’s foster son.

“For the longest of time, my son was filled with rage”, Caine said in his cadent voice. “He was, I think, confused at the thought of having two parents. As I sense you are now”.

“I am”, Sarah admitted, though, if she was honest with herself, that wasn’t the predominant feeling she had… _at all._ “Part of me is angry, of course. At my parents, for lying to me, though I tell myself that maybe that was all they knew, maybe they didn’t do it on purpose, or— Anyway, I’m mad at Paul. I can’t believe he really didn’t know about my existence, but at the same time, I know it could happen. I’m even angry at my mother for dying and leaving me behind. God, I sound like a spoiled brat, don’t I?”

“Anger… is every bit a part of oneself as love or sorrow. There is no sense in denying it, for it will rise with a vengeance. We must remember that anger and forgiveness are two wolves that dwell and fight within us. And the victorious one… shall be the one we feed”.

Sarah mulled over Caine’s words for a while and at last she spoke:

“I don’t want to stay angry. I want to be wholly happy for having found him”.

“I… can help you”, Caine said with his trademark shrugging. “Let us meditate”.

Even the hyperactive Bailey fell under Caine’s spell and fifteen minutes later Peter walked into his father’s parlor to find him sitting facing Sarah, both of them in the lotto position, eyes closed and breathing deeply and evenly. Bailey sat quietly in a corner, looking at them with a glint of curiosity in his pale blue eyes.

“Did… you need something, my son?” Caine asked without opening his eyes.

“No, I—just dropped by to say hi”, Peter replied.

“Hi, Peter”, Sarah greeted him, wondering whether Paul had told him yet.

“Hey… _Sis”,_ Peter replied genially, answering Sarah’s unasked question, “How do you like that, Pop? First I had no family and now I’m getting showered with relatives left, right and center”.

“Be careful what you wish for”, Caine said, and both Peter and Sarah smiled.

“So… how’re you coping with the thought of being a Blaisdell?”

“Still getting used to it”, Sarah answered truthfully. “It’s a lot to take in”.

“Been there, done that. Hopefully, you’ll handle it better than I did, eh, Pop?”

“She’s not as stubborn, so I am sure she will”, Caine said, slapping Peter affectionately across his cheek.

“I was hoping to see the Ancient”, Sarah said. “I wanted to introduce him to Bailey”.

“He is rather taken with you”, Caine said. “But he was summoned to assist a dying member of our community”.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that”.

“Death is but a natural step for the chi”, Caine murmured.

Peter gave Sarah a look that plainly said _‘don’t mind him’_ , and allowed himself a moment to really look at his foster sister. She had Paul’s eyes, there was no question about it, the same shape and cool gray color, although Sarah’s were not as heavy-lidded, and they had hues of blue that Paul’s eyes lacked. She had a glorious cascade of very dark, glossy hair, by far her best asset, and a pale, heart-shaped face, completely devoid of make-up; she shared Paul’s chiseled features, piercing gaze and guarded expression, and she wasn’t beautiful, just as Paul wasn’t handsome, but they were both striking in their own scary way.

Today she was not wearing scrubs as it was Saturday and apparently her day off, but her style remained simple and comfortable. She seemed calm and composed, but there was something, perhaps only visible to his shaolin eye, that spoke of fierceness and inner strength… and maybe even a bit of Paul’s intrinsic ruthlessness that, Peter realized, made her a perfect match to Kermit. The fact that Caine had embraced her like one of his own bode well for his friend in the dark sunglasses. Kermit was head-over-heels about her, that much was obvious. Now all that remained was to see whether the lady returned his feelings. Peter sincerely hoped that she would; he’d hate to see Kermit hurt again.

“I know it’s too soon to ask”, Sarah spoke, bringing him back to reality, “but has there been any luck finding the guys that attacked me?”

“Well, yes, and no”, Peter replied, letting himself fall graciously to the floor beside her. “I got a lead from one of my snitches, so Kermit and I went to his supposed hiding place to check it out, but the guy was nowhere to be found. Apparently we just missed him by mere seconds”.

“Well, that sucks”, Sarah blurted out. “I mean, that’s unfortunate!”

“No, it actually sucks”, Peter said soothingly. “Don’t be afraid to let your gutter mouth loose in front of your big brother”.

“Actually, it was your father that worried me”.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He doesn’t, right, Pop?”

“Do not call me ‘Pop’ in front of your sister”, Caine admonished him.

“You love it”, Peter said cheekily. “Anyway, little Sis, I hope we will catch’em soon. But you gotta remember these are only goons. It’s the mastermind we have to worry about, which brings me to my next question: Have you thought of moving out of your place temporarily?”

“That’s exactly what Kermit suggested”, Sarah said somewhat distastefully. “Is it really necessary?”

“Well, Paul had Mom and the girls shipped off to London to stay under the protection of a hardened mercenary… so yes, I’d say it is”.

“But… will I be able to go to work and such? I can’t very well waltz into my boss’s office and tell him I’m skipping my shifts because some mercenary’s out to get me”.

“It’s the truth, but it has been my experience that people usually don’t believe you when you tell them the truth, right, Pop?”

“It’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction”, Caine said. “Fiction has to make sense”.

“Confucius?” Peter asked.

“Mark Twain”.

“Man, I cannot catch a break!” he exclaimed. “Anyway, Sis, can’t you just ask for some time off?”

“Peter, I’m a doctor, not a florist. Time-off is a luxury we don’t have”.

“I see, and likewise.  Don’t know why it must be that way, but there you have it. Still, we need to do something. Paul is pulling each and every string of his to try and locate Atherton, but as long as he’s not taken care of, you’re in grave danger”.

Sarah tried not to dwell on the fact that ‘taking care’ of Atherton probably meant to have him killed, and made a feeble attempt at humor.

“Well, that sounds awfully melodramatic. I feel like a damsel in distress. But then, what about you? Aren’t you targeted as well?

“Yeah, but I’m a cop _and_ a Shaolin. I kick ass”.

Caine snorted derisively from the corner where he had busied himself at grinding herbs, and Bailey issued a dry bark.

“Yeah, and I’m the daughter of a mercenary and a Chinese spy and I can’t even use the stupid chopsticks”, Sarah quipped to Caine and Peter’s amusement. “I’m screwed, I get it. Well, what do you have in mind?”

Peter smiled devilishly to himself. Sarah had walked straight into his machiavellic hands.

“ _Weeell_ , I was thinking maybe you could move in with one of our detectives”, he spoke, “one that could protect you and be there for you in any way that you needed…”

Sarah wasn’t so _naïve_ as to miss Peter blatantly obvious attempt at getting Kermit landed with her, and truth be told, she found the idea rather appealing. But neither of them had reckoned with Caine’s tendency to meddle when you least expected it.

“I am sure Mary Margaret would be delighted to oblige”, he said, and if Peter hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn his Pop was actually fighting off a cheeky smile. If Sarah hadn’t just been thwarted herself, she would have laughed at the look of disappointment on Peter’s face.

“Well— well— I— that’s great, Pop”, Peter stammered. “I guess maybe I could ask her—”

“It was actually her idea”, Caine continued. “We were… discussing recent events over tea the other day and she… suggested Sarah should be protected. Has she not told you?”

Knowing Skalany, Peter was sure it was Kermit she had in mind when she suggested protection for Sarah, but you had to leave it to Caine the Insightful to twist people’s words to their own disadvantage. Shambhala Master’s privilege, surely.

“Well, we haven’t been on the same shift for a while now, but— Hang on; did you tell her Sarah is Paul’s daughter?”

“No, my son, I did not. Although… from what she said… Jody was in tenterhooks wondering… what their relation was”.

“She walked in on us hugging”, Sarah explained.

“Great, now I’ll have them thinking that you’re Paul’s middle-age crisis”, Peter groaned and Sarah let out a snort of laughter. Caine looked at them as if he didn’t understand.

“Well, so I’m moving out, apparently”, Sarah said. “Do you think Skalany should mind if I bring Bailey along?”

“Mary Margaret is very fond of dogs”, Caine informed her.

“Maybe you’d like to ride to the precinct with me so we can ask her properly and get things arranged”, Peter suggested.

“Yes, I think that would be best”.

 

So they both said their goodbyes to Caine and headed off to the precinct, with Bailey looking out contentedly from the tiny back seat of Peter’s Stealth.

Skalany was indeed delighted to oblige, if albeit a bit shocked to be asked, which confirmed Peter’s early suspicions. Nonetheless, Skalany graciously issued Sarah the warmest of welcomes, including Bailey in the deal, and arranging that they’d move in with her that very same afternoon, enlisting Peter and Blake’s help for the deed. Kermit’s office was closed, leaving Sarah to wonder where he could be, but not daring to ask.


	5. Chapter 5




The moving went on smoothly and soon Sarah and Bailey were safely installed in Skalany’s spare room. Sarah was allowed to go about her routine, but she always had a discreet police officer close by, watching her every move. Kermit was still nowhere to be found, but no one seemed to find that odd. Apparently he was prone to sudden disappearances.

 

“Well, I gotta go, duty calls”, Skalany said as she went around the tiny living-room, getting ready for her night shift. “Got everything you need, maze, Taser gun, my number on speed dial?”

“I think I’d do better if I can learn to send Caine a mental sign of distress”.

Skalany laughed heartily.

“Oh, he is something all right”.

“Yes, quite a character”.

“Actually, I think I’m the only dull person you’ll meet for a while”, Skalany continued, “Nearly everybody in our precinct or their close relations seems to have a sordid past”.

“Oh, I’m quite dull myse—” Sarah began, but then remembered her own sordid past was the reason for her current predicament and closed her mouth in mid-sentence.

“Yeah, didn’t think so”, Skalany said. “Well, I’m off. Lock yourself in, will you? And don’t open the door to strangers”.

“I won’t, Mom, don’t worry”, Sarah replied cheekily.

Skalany gifted her with a sheepish smile.

“Well, I guess it’s true Catholic Moms _are_ worse than Jewish Moms. I seem to be channeling my own, lately”.

They both laughed at that and Skalany left, still fighting with her purse. Sarah obediently locked the door after her, dug up some ice-cream from the fridge, opened a bag of her favorite Gummi Bears and flopped into the couch to watch a movie.

“Bailey, want some ice-cream?”

But the sturdy half-husky ignored her and remained with his snout pressed to the front door.

“Bailey, get away from that door. Skalany won’t be back for a while”.

Bailey had been enamored of Skalany since he'd first laid eyes on her, and always took her absence rather tragically.

“Bailey, come on. There’s no one there. Here, have some ice-cream”.

Still nothing. Sarah sighed and turned her attention back to the TV set. It might have been the fact that she had a short attention span, or that her own shift had been exhausting; or maybe, even that the movie was appallingly bad. Sarah fell asleep ten minutes into the movie, her cup of ice-cream forgotten on the coffee table. Bailey finally tore himself apart from the door, walked sneakily towards the table and proceeded to gobble down the half-melted ice-cream, getting his snout liberally smeared in the process. He was interrupted by a knock on the door and he immediately lunged forward, emitting gurgling barks through a mouthful of ice-cream.

Sarah woke with a start, got up from the couch, stretched luxuriously, bent to pick up the bag of Gummi Bears, which she had dropped in her sleep, and walked to the door. She peeked through the peephole and her heart skipped several beats, as none other than Kermit Griffin stood there, dark green glasses, white forelock of hair and old-fashioned red tie firmly in place. She opened the door, mentally cursing his timing, as he had caught her less than presentable. She gave up trying to arrange her hair as a bad job, and stood there stupidly, still clutching the bag of candy for dear life.

 

Kermit drank on her appearance from behind his dark glasses, and fought off a smile at her obvious discomfort. He could tell from her flushed cheeks and tousled hair that she had been sleeping, and a disconnected part of his brain suddenly wondered what it would be like to wake up beside her. He tried to quell that contemplation, and fixed his gaze on her left hand. _God, I have to marry this woman,_ he thought.

“You like Gummi Bears?” he spoke out loud.

“Yeah, I love them”, Sarah replied. “Want some?” she offered the bag to him, and he took a piece.

“I had some ice-cream, too, but Bailey seems to have taken care of that”.

Kermit glanced at the smeared dog and laughed.

“Want to come in?” Sarah asked, moving aside so Kermit could walk in.

“So… Skalany’s?” he said. “Whose idea was it?”

“Well, I have no clue” Sarah said, taking away the ice-cream cup. “Peter suggested I should move out and Caine thought Skalany would make the perfect bodyguard”.

 _That meddling fool,_ Kermit thought.

“Can I offer you anything?” Sarah called from the sink. “There’s more ice-cream… and I think we’ve got some wine somewhere…”

“Wine will be fine”, Kermit said. “And I wouldn’t say no to another Gummi Bear”.

“Help yourself”, Sarah said.

Kermit reached for the bag as he watched her look for the bottle in question to no avail. His heart nearly skipped a beat when she pulled out a small stool, climbed up and tried to reach the highest cabinets.

“Be careful!” he said against his better judgment.

Sarah climbed back down holding a dusty bottle.

“I’m not made of glass, you know”, she said with a smile, “I’m a bit of a klutz, I grant you, but—”

“I’m sorry”, Kermit apologized, unable to tell her that his whole being cringed at the thought of her even breaking a nail. He had his own reasons for that, from the fact that he’d been he’d been saddled with the responsibility of his brother and sister at a very young age, to the string of loses he’d had; or maybe it was just the way he was; the fact remained that the need to protect and care for others was deeply embedded in his DNA.

“That’s OK”, Sarah said. “Here, perform your masculine duty and uncork this for me. I never can”.

Somewhat mollified without knowing why (it never occurred to him that Sarah had deftly passed the ball to his court by pretending she couldn’t uncork the bottle), Kermit grabbed the bottle from her, his fingers lingering ever so slightly over hers.

“Let me get some glasses”, Sarah said and dived into a cabinet to hide her furious blush. _Well, girl, you haven’t been in this situation for a while!_ She thought, and immediately that treacherous part of her psyche that seemed to hold court in her brain like a malignant tumor replied: _Yeah, I wonder what he sees in you, though._ As Sarah didn’t have an answer for that, she thought nothing in reply, grabbed two tall glasses and forced herself to get out of the cabinet and face him again.

They sat themselves at the kitchen table. Kermit poured the wine carefully and sat back to look at her. She sipped at her wine quietly and drummed her fingers on the table.

“So… how long have you been here?” Kermit asked.

“About a week now, but nothing’s happened yet”.

“Let’s hope we’ll continue that way”.

“Any luck in finding those guys? Peter told me you got a lead on one of them but he got away”.

“Yeah, the sneaky bastard… but don’t worry, Sweetcakes, we’ll catch them”, Kermit said, and lifted his glass in toast.

“Amen to that. This damsel in distress business really doesn’t suit me”.

Kermit smiled. It did suit her, but if he told her that, she’d probably bite his head off.

“Have you told your parents yet? You know— About Paul and you?”

 

 “No… what a wimp, eh? I mean, I know I can’t stall it forever, but I just can’t find a way of saying it… Gosh, _now_ I know how they must have felt when they told me I was adopted!”

Kermit nodded encouragingly.

“You’ll find a way. They’re still your parents, they raised you, no one can take that away from them”.

“That’s true. Still, it’s complicated”.

“Oh, yeah”.

 

They fell silent for a while, and then Sarah asked, seemingly almost against her will:

“How long have you worn those sunglasses?”

 

Kermit stared at her. That wasn’t the usual question, people didn’t ask that. They asked why he wore them, yes. Whether he ever took them off, he had been asked more than once… and he had rehearsed answers to both questions: _“they block people that grate on my corneas”_ , was what he always said when asked the first one; and, when asked the second one, he’d invariably reply: _“Just like Michael Caine in the Ipcress File, only when I go to bed”._ But, to his recollection, no one had ever asked him _how long_ he had worn them. It was the surprise at the unusual question that prompted him to answer truthfully before he could exercise some sort of censure.

“Since I was seventeen… 1975”.

Sarah raised her eyebrows in surprise and admiration.

“That’s quite a long time. Is it the same pair since then?”

Again, another unusual question. Kermit smiled.

“No, I think I’ve replaced them four times up to date”.

“Have you got an eye condition?”

“You could say so, yes”.

 

And before Sarah could even think he was waving her off, and much to Kermit’s own surprise, he launched into telling her the reason behind his ever-present glasses.

~*~

 

Silence.

It was a welcome gift after the endless days of pained screams, hoarse shouts and the sound of the whip. He still saw bright spots before him, even under his closed eyelids. His body was a singing agony of pain. At some point both his shoulders had been dislocated. Someone had popped them back into place so they could tie him up.  He didn’t think he could find his voice, try as he might. He’d screamed his throat raw after the last ‘session’.

 

How long had it been? He couldn’t recall. The memories were blurry, fading, distorted. He had been on a mission, he remembered that much, a mission that hadn’t been his. He had defied Paul and tagged along against his wishes, and now he was paying the price.

 

“Might I ask”, the Commander’s voice rose impatiently in the near vicinity of what Kermit could only assume was his hospital bed, “What _on earth_ possessed you to send _him_ along? He’s not even of age, for God’s sake!”

“I did not _send_ him”, came Paul’s clipped reply. “He went off his own accord”.

“That’s all for the worst. Wasting resources to rescue a reckless brat who won’t do as told.  Two men lost, Blaisdell. _Two!_ And for what? Look at him, he’s probably blind at best, insane for sure. He brought this onto himself and now he’s a liability!”

Kermit couldn’t see what happened next, of course, but the sound was unmistakable. Paul was pinning the Commander against a wall, probably with his famous frontal neck-choke.

“Do not EVER say that again”, Paul spoke hoarsely. “Or I will kill you myself”.

Kermit tried to turn to his side on the bed, but couldn’t. He was much too weak still.  He wanted to make a sound to alert the arguing men of his awareness, but couldn’t make a sound. _‘Must be the drugs’_ he thought dazedly. _‘After all we have the best there are’._

 

Reckless brat. Oh, yeah. Yes, indeed, sir. He had been that from the womb, even more so since his father had died. Paul had tried to pull him out of that life, to no success whatsoever. And he had seized his first chance to go into the field and prove his worth to his mentor.

And he had failed miserably.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, just some routine reconnaissance mission, a joined effort of the CIA and some Army big shots to finally put an end to that insanity also known as the Vietnam War. But, just like what happened to his father before, something had gone awry. Perhaps something as simple as a misplaced telephone, or a code-key spelled the wrong way. Or maybe a couple thousand big ones had changed hands. They might never know.

The thing was everything had literally blown up in their faces —in the form of a grenade going off in the middle of a top-secret-meeting—, and of course, the rookie had gotten himself caught in the stupidest way possible, realizing every US citizen’s worst nightmare back then: falling into Charlie’s hands.

They had kept him tied to the ceiling of a dank, humid room with no windows. His wrists supported the full weight of his body all day, and they had tied his head back so he’d be forced to stare at a bright sunray that crept through a crevice. At night, when he’d hoped he’d get a respite, they would turn on a lamp to continue the torture. It went on endlessly, hanging by the wrists, his shoulder joints stretched in an abnormal position, the waste of his body running down his legs, except when they took him down for questioning. After the first week or so, he hadn’t been able to stand up and he remained on the floor curled into a fetal position during the ‘interrogation’. They didn’t feed him. Just three cups of water a day to keep him from actually dying. Once a week he’d get one half of stale bread, courtesy of the General’s weekly visit. Let no one say the V-C mistreated their prisoners.

Kermit was sure Charlie had thought he’d break easily. But even for a seventeen year old who still needed to learn how to properly wipe his ass –as Paul often said— Kermit Griffin was a tough nut to crack. He had the uncanny ability of retreating into the innermost recesses of his mind, leaving his conscience free to analyze with almost clinical detachment the abuse his physical body was subjected to. And no amount of torture could extricate a single word from him. Not that he knew much to begin with, but what he knew, he kept from himself, a skill that would serve him later on when he left the CIA and became a hired mercenary. He had been more nauseated by the way his own people had treated him after the rescue than by Charlie’s antics. After all, he couldn’t expect any less from the V-C. But he’d remained in the Agency for Paul’s sake until he could take it no more.

 

It was Paul who’d orchestrated his rescue, of course. And it had almost cost him everything he owned. He’d pulled on every string and called on every favor he was owed until he had a rescue team assembled. Two men had been lost, the Commander was right. Two good men who needn’t have died, but then again, neither did the other 58000 casualties that the War had left. Kermit didn’t remember much of the rescue. He had been cut loose by Paul himself, finally tearing his face way from the goddamned sunlight in days. His shoulders had popped out again, so they had to put them back into place before moving him. He was filthy, emaciated, smeared in his own waste, with sores and ulcers brought on by malnutrition  His hair hung over his face in matted tangles, insects crawling around his beard, which had grown evenly and quite thick for a seventeen year old. 

And he was blind.

 

The doctors who had treated him after his rescue had blamed his condition on a mixture of the light torture and vitamin A deficiency. They had been vague about his possibilities of recovery and had prescribed darkened rooms and sunglasses for the time being, along with massive amounts of the vitamin in question. Kermit had recovered his eyesight, of course, even if it took more than he’d expected. Much more than it had taken him to suppress the events that had led to the loss of it. Repression was a wonderful defense mechanism. The team that examined him was at a loss of words. Kermit was as sane as he had always been (which, in his opinion, was not saying much), and showed no noticeable sign of trauma… Aside from the dark glasses and the glib uniform he chose to wear from the day the Fall of Saigon was announced, two months after he was rescued. He actually didn’t need the glasses anymore, but he found they were the perfect armor to keep snooping people at bay. After all, some philosopher or other did say the eyes were the windows to the soul, right? And he didn’t want his soul bared to the public, thank you very much.

 His trademark white forelock appeared soon after he was released from the hospital, and although many people advised him to dye it, he ignored them soundly, and went about his business, turning himself into the perfect, effective, intelligent and geeky CIA operative Paul had seen in him even before all this mess had taken place.

No harm, no foul… apparently.

 

His subconscious, however… well, that was another story.

 

~*~

 

Sarah found herself back on Skalany’s kitchen table, sitting opposite Kermit, who at some point had taken her hand in his and was gripping it tightly. He was breathing heavily, and he had his face downcast so as not to meet her gaze.

 “Kermit…” Sarah began, but she snapped her mouth shut. What was there to be said?

He stood up and turned his back to her. Sarah felt silent tears run down her cheeks, and, acting on impulse, she got off her chair and did the first thing that came to mind. She closed her arms around him. She felt him jerk violently and she sensed he was torn between pushing her away and returning her embrace. He did the second thing, turning to face her, crushing her to him fiercely.

“I’m sorry, so sorry”, he mumbled as he rocked her slightly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry—”

He kept apologizing almost as if repeating a mantra, until Sarah found her voice and drew back a little to look at him, still in the circle of his arms.

“What are you apologizing for?” she exclaimed. “Scare me? You didn’t scare me”, he had, but now was not the time to tell him. “I just… I’m sorry, I—well, I guess corny as it sounds, but I cry because you can’t, does it make any sense?”

She gave him a wavering smile and Kermit bent forward to press a kiss to her forehead, almost without thinking. “ _Your chis are entwined”,_ Caine’s voice echoed inside his head. Apparently this was just one of the side effects.

“Yes, Sweetcakes, it makes perfect sense”.

He kept on kissing her face, tenderness rapidly morphing into passion. He sought her lips and was elated when she responded in kind, making a little sound in her throat that went straight to Kermit’s head. This was so right, the way it was meant to be, Kermit thought. Having had his share of wrong experiences, he was sure now he could tell the difference. He broke the kiss before his instincts completely took over and drew her back to his chest, holding her close with one hand while the other glided through her soft hair. They stood like that for a while and finally Kermit spoke quietly:

“Thank you… for listening”.

Sarah moved her head slightly so she could press a kiss to the side of his neck, which made him shiver.

“You’re welcome”.

The phone rang loudly, startling them both out of their skins. They laughed nervously and Kermit let go of Sarah so she could pick up the receiver.

“Hello?” she said, and Kermit watched as her brow furrowed in concentration. “Yes, yes indeed, of course, Jody. Is she alright? Well, that’s good to hear. Yes, we’ll be right over”.

She returned the receiver back to the cradle and turned to Kermit.

“Skalany’s been shot”, she said succinctly.

“What happened?”

“A busting gone sour, apparently or so Jody seems to think. It wasn’t all that bad, just a graze, but still quite a scare. I told Jody we’d be right over”.

“Of course, of course”, Kermit felt his pockets for his car keys and waited for Sarah to pull her hair back up and grab a coat to don over her oversized scrub. She walked over to where Bailey watched them attentively and let him know she was leaving to see Auntie Mary Margaret, who was at the hospital. That brought a smile to Kermit’s lips.

Caine, Peter, Jody and Blake were already in the waiting room when Sarah and Kermit arrived. They had walked right through the hospital halls as if they owned the place, and although Kermit would have liked to pin it to his menacing stance, he knew it was because of Sarah that they had gone through undisturbed: she had marched them both around with a martial stride that left little room for questioning, and Kermit was reminded of Paul’s own commanding gait; it was amazing how many traits they shared, considering they’d just met. Kermit was snapped out of his musings when they came to a halt in the waiting room and Peter shot him and Sarah a knowing glance when he saw tem arrive together, but both of them soundly ignored him.

“How is she?” Sarah asked to no one on particular.

“She will be alright” Caine spoke softly.

“She needs surgery” Peter quipped. “We’ve been asked to be blood donors, but some of us can’t donate”, he finished, signaling to himself and Kermit, who had been both in the receiving end of a transfusion hose more than once. Occupational hazard, as Paul would have said.

“Myself among them”, Sarah said. “Hmm… How many donors have they asked for?”

“Five, for starters”, Peter replied. “You know GSWs can get messy”.

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, let’s find who else can be a donor in the Precinct” Sarah suggested.

“I shall donate all the blood that is needed”, Caine said.

“That’s very kind of you, Caine, but you can’t. There’s a limit as to the amount of blood they can draw from a person”.

“You don’t know him” Peter spoke. “He could exsanguinate himself and still manage to win a marathon”.

“I don’t doubt it” Sarah agreed. After all, she’d seen Caine in action, “but still, they won’t risk it at the blood bank”.

“They haven’t allowed us to see her”, piped in Jody.

“Let me find out why”.

And Sarah walked straight to the nurse’s counter to grab Skalany’s file. She browsed through the pages with expert movements, her head tilted to the side and her brow furrowed in a gesture that reminded Kermit oddly of Bailey. She closed the metallic clip holder, left it where she had found it and walked back towards them.

“Well, she was been sedated to better handle her vitals, so it really wouldn’t make much difference if they let us in, because she won’t know we’re there. Still, I’ll ask her attending for clearance, if I can find him— Ha, here he comes now! Hey, Frank! FRANKIE!” she hollered, and Kermit felt a pang of jealousy at the way the approaching red-headed doctor smiled at her.

“Kiddo!” he greeted. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it your night off?

“Yes, it is, and don’t even try to recruit me”, Sarah replied. “I know the shift’s short-handed. No, listen, Frankie, a friend of mine’s been shot and you’re his attending. Please take good care of her”.

“Kiddo, you needn’t have asked! Who is she, miss— hold on— Skalany?”

“That’s her”, Sarah replied. “We were wondering whether we could see her”.

“Sure, I don’t see why not, but she’s out cold. It was a superficial GSI, but a nasty one. She was in too much pain, so I chose to sedate her so she could ride the worst of it”.

“She’ll thank you later”, Sarah smiled.

“So, go on ahead. Just try and keep it down, or it’s my head they’re having”.

“Thanks, Frankie, you’re the best”.

Frank squeezed Sarah’s cheek and Kermit had to fight the sudden urge to grab his Desert Eagle and blast him into next week. It was Peter and Jody’s amused gaze that stopped him.

“We can see her”, Sarah announced with a grin, and Kermit smiled back at her. He couldn’t help it.

Sarah herded them inside Skalany’s room and they each grimaced in turn at the sight of her pale, sleeping form in the hospital bed. She was hooked on to a variety of monitors and a white bandage covered her left shoulder. Skalany opened her eyes and managed a small smile at the sight of her friends.

“Hey”, Sarah spoke in a low voice, “how’re you feeling?”

“Like crap, but it could be worse, I guess”, Skalany replied hoarsely. “So much for dullness, uh?” she mocked and laughed.

“Yeah, be careful what you wish for”.

“So what happened?” Peter asked.

“I’m not really sure” Skalany said, and turned to Jody for help.

“You know we’ve been on stake-out for the last couple of weeks, right” Jody intervened. “Blake here provided us with bugging devices and such. We were after this— well; I guess we could call him a snitch of sorts. He was selling info to DAs and top-rated prosecutors which led to judge-bribing and suspicious trial-skewing”.

“Sounds like a piece of work” Kermit said.

“Oh, he is, believe me. But to our knowledge, he never, and I mean _never_ packed heat; which is foolish considering what he does for a living, but totally to our advantage, if you get my drift”.

“So how come you got shot?”

“That’s the thing”, Skalany said. “I have no freaking idea of what the hell happened”.

“Everything went crazy all of the sudden”, Jody continued. “We were waiting for our cue, back up was standing in line, but then we heard shots, so we left our spot to investigate”.

“You… were ambushed”, Caine spoke from a corner, and everyone turned out to look at him, as they’d forgotten he was there.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought” Skalany agreed. “But by whom?”

Caine gave his trademark one-shoulder shrug.

“I… do not know” he and Peter spoke in unison. Sarah and Kermit bit back a laugh.

“My educated guess would be you were ambushed by one of the high and mighty characters that had much to lose in the event of your snitch getting caught” Kermit said.

“That… is not what happened” Caine replied.

“I thought you didn’t know?”

“They were… confused. They were not after Mary Margaret, nor Jody. They were after Sarah”.

“Me?” Sarah quipped in disbelief.

“They thought Mary Margaret was Sarah” Caine said.

It was then when Kermit realized that they both had nearly the same height and hair color (Skalany’s was of a lighter shade, but that would have gone unnoticed in the dark), and had to fight down a sudden bolt of nausea. Off its own volition, his hand sought Sarah’s and intertwining their fingers, he pulled her close to him. Of course, the gesture didn’t go unnoticed, but no one made a comment.

“God, Mary Margaret, I’m sorry” Sarah said, feeling bile rising up her throat. “I never meant—”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, girlie” Skalany replied. “It comes with the job. Besides, I barely got hit. I’ll be out of here in no time and we’ll hit a bar to get you laid” she added cheekily in hopes that Kermit would bite the bait, as he ought to do if his hand still holding Sarah’s was any indicator. Of course, he rose magnificently to the occasion.

“Not if I have something to say about that” he spoke through a gritted grimace that failed dismally at mimicking a smile.

Sarah looked at him in surprise and it was then when she apparently first registered consciously the fact that her hand was enveloped in his. She blushed to the roots of her hair and bit her lower lip, at a loss for words. Kermit gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and let go of her, just when the entire room burst into laughter.

“Shut up!” said Sarah, her face redder than a fire truck. “They’ll kick us out!”

“Yeah, shut up, you guys”, Skalany added. “It hurts when I laugh. Besides, there’s nothing funny about these two being in LUUUUUURVE!”

That set them off again, and Sarah was slightly mollified when she saw Kermit’s blush matched her own.

 

“Now, for the important things” Skalany continued when the guffaws subsided. “I’ll be here with a police escort and Jody to keep me company, so we’re accounted for and reasonably safe, but what about you, Sarah?”

Sarah was about to reply they needn’t worry about her, since she was more than capable of taking care of herself, when she saw the malicious glint in Skalany’s eyes and decided to shut up.

“Well, I mean” Skalany began innocently. “Seeing as I’m stuck here and _I was_ your appointed bodyguard… I thought someone else would want the job”, she looked pointedly at Kermit, “someone who knows what these people are capable of, and is able to fight them off… After all, we wouldn’t want Captain Blaisdell’s daughter to get injured, would we?”

Sarah gifted Skalany with a look that plainly said _‘you’ll pay for that one once you can leave that bed’_ , and Jody failed at stopping herself from laughing again.

“You suck at subterfuge, Mary Margaret, you know that”, Kermit informed her.

“Oh, that wasn’t subterfuge at all, my dear Frog Man. This is plain malice _and_ aforethought” Skalany replied.

Sarah looked at her in horror, wondering whether Skalany was capable of getting herself shot just to get Kermit to babysit her. Surely that went beyond unreasonable… but with these girls, you never knew!

“We have to let Paul know about this” Peter said. He had been oddly quiet this whole time, such a contrast with his usual bubbling charm. “Where is he, anyway?”

But, as to that, no one knew.

“Well, I’ll try to find him”, Peter continued. “Are you coming, Pop, or will you stay with Skalany?”

Peter had come to grips with his father and Skalany’s relationship, but still found it awkward to speak of it.

“As… she wishes”, Caine replied.

“Jody’s already said she’d stay”, Skalany spoke with a smile. “I don’t think they’ll allow two visitors in the same room”.

“They won’t” Sarah clarified.

“Thank you, Caine”, said Skalany. “You can stay tomorrow after the surgery if you like”.

“I would be honored”, Caine said, bowing as he brought his hands together mimicking a yin-yang.

“Well, we’ll take off, then”, Peter announced. “Take care, everybody. Skalany… I’m glad you’re still with us”.

And with that, both father and son left the room. Sarah noticed Jody’s eyes painfully following Peter’s retreat. She had been at the botched-stake-out-slash-ambush as well, and in equal danger as Skalany, and yet Peter had hardly acknowledged her presence. It was at that moment that Sarah understood the female detectives’ need to act as match-makers. After all, their love lives were either rather messy or more than unsatisfactory.

She gave Jody a smile and told her:

“We’re glad _you_ _both_ are still with us, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah… thanks, Sarah. You’re your father’s daughter, no doubt about that”.

“Why do you say that?”

“You also feel the need to cover for… him” They all knew who Jody meant. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but—”

“I understand”.

“So, Cupid” Kermit interjected, addressing Skalany, “given that Sarah’s already installed in your apartment and seeing as you just _had_ to appoint me head bodyguard, I’m sure you won’t mind us crashing at your place, will you?”

“Not at all, my dear Green Friend”, Skalany replied. “You’ll even find a nice drawer for you to store those damn glasses”. They chortled at that remark. “Hey, Sarah, get over here for a minute”.

Sarah walked towards the hospital bed and bent over Skalany, who whispered something in her ear. Sarah straightened up, once again blushing crimson, and bid Jody and Skalany adieu without further ado.

Kermit followed her outside Skalany’s room and though he really wanted to know what Skalany had told Sarah to induce such a violent blush, he refrained from asking until they reached the parking lot and them and Blake had parted ways.

Kermit opened the car door for Sarah, and then climbed inside the Corvair himself. He started the engine and drove out of the parking lot in silence. Sarah was looking out the window, apparently immersed in her own thoughts.

“I’d apologize in name of my colleagues”, Kermit said, “but I guess it wouldn’t make a difference”.

Sarah laughed softly.

“What did Skalany tell you, anyway?”

There it was, that delicious blush creeping up her face again.

“I don’t know if I should tell you…”

“Go on, Sweetcakes, how bad can it be?”

“She said there are condoms in the bathroom cabinet's bottom drawer", Sarah blurted out, and Kermit had to do a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping at Skalany’s boldness.

“I’ll be damned! It’s always the quiet ones…” he mused.

Suddenly, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

“Buckle up, Sweetcakes”, he said.

“I already have”, Sarah replied, “But, why—?”

“We’re about to shake a tail”.

 

 

Kermit floored the gas and swerved violently to the right, making the tires screech. The anonymous, dark gray car that had so far kept a prudent distance from them followed in hot pursuit. The Kermitmobile ate miles at a sickening speed, Sarah grabbing the door handle so tight her knuckles where white. Kermit turned again and sped up a dark alley, then took a closed U-turn and hid between two buildings. He was about to ask Sarah if she was OK when he was violently cut off by a rear-ending. Their pursuer had snuck behind them with their lights out and was now intent on pushing the Kermitmobile out of its hiding spot.

“HOLD ON!” Kermit roared. He slid the lever into reverse, floored the pedal and smashed right into the gray car’s already battered front. He quickly changed gears and sped up, leaving their pursuer behind.

“I killed the engine” Kermit announced proudly. “At least, I think I did”.

He didn’t slow down, though, and he kept on zigzagging through deserted streets.

“I don’t think going back to Skalany’s is such a good idea”, he said suddenly. “There might be someone waiting for us there”.

“But— What about Bailey? I can’t just leave him there…!”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll send a patrolman to pick him up and drive him to… where we’re going”, Kermit offered.

Sarah eyed him thoughtfully, weighing her choices. Of course she could see Kermit’s was the reasonable course of action, but when it came to her dog, Sarah was nothing if not a Mama Bear. Still—

It was, however, the gray car smashing into the rear of the Corvair that made the decision for her. As her head had been turned so she could look at Kermit, the blow caught her off-guard and her head bounced back and forth violently in tandem with the impact. Kermit watched the scene out of the corner of his eye, Sarah’s head bobbing helplessly above her neck like a drunken flower, and had to fight every impulse that begged him to stop the car and check on her. He grunted.

“I’m fine, I’m fine”, Sarah assured him, rubbing the side of her neck. “You were right, let’s go!”

So Kermit, hoping is beloved Corvair wouldn’t fail him at this dire hour, forced the engine to maximum speed and disappeared up a semi-hidden road in the far end of the woods that circled that part of town. They pursuer followed suit, but the car’s battered engine couldn’t take the up-hill climb and died out completely a couple of meters behind the Corvair.

“Keep your head down, Sweetcakes”, Kermit admonished, doing the same.

Sarah didn’t need to ask why, she _knew._ And sure enough, gunshots were heard, but the distance between both cars was too great now to make any difference.

 

They made it safely to a secluded wooden cabin in a clearing, surrounded by bushy pines. They both left the car at the same time, and practically ran through the front door. Kermit instructed Sarah to lie low, and clutching his loaded Desert Eagle in his right hand, made a quick and uneventful trip to the adjacent shed to turn on the gennie. He checked the reserves and saw there was enough for a couple of days. Hopefully he’d have found a way to get Sarah out of there before they ran out.

He returned to the cabin, still on guard, and found Sarah rummaging through the closets, presumably in search for flashlights, candles and other basic necessities. She moved rather stiffly and groaned every time she bent her head. Careful to announce his presence so as not to startle her, Kermit holstered back his gun, cleared his throat and asked:

“Are you OK, Sweetcakes?”

“Yeah, I think” Sarah replied. “It was a nasty whiplash. It’ll be sore in the morning”.

“Maybe there’s something useful in the medicine cabinet” Kermit pointed out, and walked towards the bathroom to check. “Alright, we have Pepto-Bismol, Kaopectate, and Tums”, he called out, “which are of no use to us, but our friend in the gray car might have appreciated them”.

He heard Sarah chuckle and he smiled.

“We also have some aspirin— Never mind, it expired five years ago… A couple of antibiotics, but who’d want that… Oh, and look here, some good old Tylenol and a rubbing ointment”.

He walked out of the bathroom taking the last two items with him.

“I’ll make you a deal, Sweetcakes”, he said. “You go ahead and jump in the shower to ease all those sore muscles. I’ll find us something to eat and when you come out I’ll rub some of this ointment on your neck, how’s that?”

“Sounds too good to be true” Sarah said. “So I’m guessing you can’t cook to save your life”.

“Sweetcakes, you insult me! I’m the meister of canned goods, if you need to know”, Kermit said with his wolfish grin firmly in place.

“Thought so”, Sarah said cheekily, and walked into the bathroom without further ado. She found a towel she could use, rather old but apparently clean, and some basic toiletries under the sink. She emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, wrapped in her towel and with her hair dripping, but feeling immensely better. The near-scalding water had done her a world of good.

Kermit risked one glance at her and any sound he intended to make died in his throat. He took in the red patches the hot water had left in her shoulders, he relished in the way the frayed towel hugged her body and breathed in the clean scent that surrounded her.  His well-trained eyesight didn’t fail to detect she had a couple of tattoos, one on her right shoulder, and the other one on her left ankle.

“I— I found you this shirt” he stammered, handing it over. It was a large hockey jersey, which Sarah took gratefully.

“I’ll be right out”, she said, and slipped back into the bathroom to put it on. She came back again with the jersey hanging well below her knees and the towel now wrapped around her head.

Kermit stared at her. He really couldn’t have said why did he find the sight so damn alluring, but there he had it. He noticed she wasn’t quite comfortable with his undivided attention, because she quickly downcast her eyes and her hands went to twist the towel on her head. To hide his uneasiness, Kermit excused himself and bolted towards the bathroom, jumping in the shower as if running from a fire. He remained under the cold jet of water as a sort of punishment, and finally forced himself out of the bathroom, wearing a similar jersey and boxer shorts.

Sarah was in the kitchen, stirring the contents of a can into a pot.

“Tomato soup”, she informed him. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah”, he nodded.

“I found some bread, but I’m afraid it’s rather stale” Sarah said. “So this’ll have to do. I didn’t check for beverages, though”.

 

Kermit went through the cabinets and found a couple of dusty beers, an equally dirty bottle of Bordeaux and some decidedly rotten milk stored inside a steel jug.

“Who would keep this, for Heaven’s sake?” he exclaimed disgustedly as he took the jug and tossed it unceremoniously outside. He didn’t fear it would give out their hiding place, as he was sure the wild animals would soon take care of it.

He returned to the kitchen with the bottle of wine and helped Sarah ladle the soup onto the plates. The effects of the hot shower were wearing off and the stiffness was creeping back into her movements. Kermit uncorked the bottle remembering that was how their evening had started, and watched Sarah down a couple of pills with a glass of water from the sink.

“This should take care of the worst”, she said, and flopped down in her chair.

Kermit poured the wine and sat down in front of her.

“Well, my dear”, he said in his best British accent after tasting the soup: “I must say this is the best nosh I have had in my life, mark my words, I say, cheerio, bloody hell and everything else”.

Sarah laughed heartily at his performance and Kermit found it rather astonishing that she had it in her to laugh after the day they’d had. Then he remembered she was a doctor and had probably been taught to develop that very quality to keep from going insane in her line of work. Or then again, maybe she was just weird like that.

“What is this place?” Sarah finally asked.

“It was my father’s”, Kermit replied. “Back in the day, we used it as a safe house for the Dragonswing. By the way, you behaved admirably back there. Doing as you were told, no questions asked, no fit of hysterics… That’s remarkable in a woman”, he added somewhat cheekily. “It must be your mercenary blood”.

“I’ll take the compliment and ignore the insult” Sarah replied and Kermit lifted his glass in mute toast.

They finished their meager supper in amiable silence, and it was only when Sarah tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn that Kermit noticed how late it was.

“Let’s get some rest”, he said, tossing the dishes unceremoniously into the sink. “We’ll take care of that tomorrow; or rather, later today”.

Sarah agreed and stood up, tilting slightly to the side as she did so. She grabbed the edge of the table for support and sat back down.

“Wow, head rush”.

Kermit was beside her immediately.

“Are you alright?”

While the part of Sarah that had been raised to be self-sufficient, strong and independent bristled every time Kermit fussed around her, there was another rather unconscious side of her that felt oddly cherished by that very same attitude. _Make up your mind, will you_ , she chided herself.

“Yeah, I just stood up too fast”, she replied.

“Come on”, Kermit spoke, offering her his hand. “I did promise you a neck massage”.

They walked into the master bedroom hand in hand, and Kermit hesitated at the sight of the only bed. It was by all means large enough for the both of them, but given the circumstances, he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. After all, he couldn’t spend the night having cold showers.

Sarah seemed to read his thoughts.

“Look, I think we’re beyond conventionalisms at this point. If only for the practical side of it, it is likely you also got injured during the multiple crashes, and sleeping in that lumpy couch won’t help. The bed’s big enough and we’re both consenting adults here”.

Kermit smiled.

“You’re right, Sweetcakes”, he agreed.

 

He sat down on the bed and patted the mattress to indicate Sarah should sit in front of him. She removed the towel from her head and did as told, showing her back to him. She sat cross-legged as Kermit framed her hips with his legs and pulled down the neck of her loose jersey to better expose her nape and shoulders, seeing the hint of another tattoo just below the nape of her neck. He pondered at that. He hadn’t had her pegged for the tattooed girl type.

“How many are there?” He asked.

“Uh? Oh, tattoos? Six, so far”, Sarah said.

“Can I see them?”

“Sure, why not”, Sarah replied.

She shifted a little and pulled up the right sleeve of her oversized jersey, to reveal a four-leaf clover inside a half moon adorned with Celtic knots.

“This is the first one I got, when I was nineteen. Dad wasn’t pleased, and Mother climbed up the walls”, she chuckled. “I always thought I was of Irish descent until I learned I was adopted… So I got this piece as an affirmation that I belonged with my adoptive family.  Maybe I should have gotten those kanjis after all”, she added, somewhat irreverently.

Kermit gifted her with a smile and grazed the tattoo lightly with his thumb.

“Paul is half Irish, you know”, he said. “So you’re not off the mark”.

Sarah smiled back at him, and then she pulled her knees together and leaned to the right so Kermit could see the outside of her left ankle, where a black tribal swan had been tattooed over a scar.

“That one isn’t very pretty, because it was done over a scar and it didn’t heal properly”, Sarah said. “But I find it serves its purpose”.

“Which is?”

“I got that from a song I like a lot. It talks about the Ugly Duckling”, Sarah replied. Kermit didn’t know what to say to that.

“And…” Sarah shifted to the left this time and showed him her right calf, where she’d had imprinted the silhouette of a big-nosed, hat-clad man holding a rose; inside, a phrase was inscribed: _“Ne pas monter bien haut, peut-être, mais tout seule”._

“Cyrano de Bergerac”, Kermit said softly, but impressed nonetheless. “Oh, Sweetcakes, you’re something else”.  

“You think?” It was all that Sarah said.

Kermit watched Sarah trying to pull her hair up, but she winced as the movement pained her.

“Here… Let me”, Kermit said.

Her ran a hand through her damp tendrils smiling as she shivered slightly in response. He managed to tie her hair up in a loose knot on top of her head and drew back to watch his handiwork.

“Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested.  Sarah did as told, lying on her belly, with both arms supporting her head. She wriggled a bit so she could extricate the hem of her jersey from underneath her and then remained still.

“Can you help me?” she said. “I can’t— it hurts when I try to pull it”.

Kermit obliged and lifted the hem carefully over her back. The dim lamp, sitting precariously on the bedside table, cast a soft glow to her skin and highlighted the sprinkle of freckles that adorned her shoulders. He breathed in deeply at the expanse of pale flesh that greeted him, but soon his eyes were caught in the rather amazing piece she had on her back: they were actually three tattoos, one on her lower back, depicting part of the inscription of the ring of power from the Tolkien saga; another one above it, which Kermit couldn’t make out, as it was inscripted in what seemed like Nordic runes. And the last one, which took Kermit’s breath away. It was black as the other two were, starting just beneath her nape and ending well below the middle of her back, and it depicted a couple of wide wings, with high feathers which formed a semicircle above and hung in two thin lines below. Inked in between the wings there was another Celtic knot: it was mesmerizing, if kind of fierce. Against his better judgment, Kermit breathed in deeply and bent forward to press a kiss to the center of her wings. He heard her sigh softly and, encouraged, he ran his lips along her shoulders, wandering to the nape of her neck and back to the inked wings on her back. He smiled against her skin when she broke out in goosebumps, and she tried to turn on her back to reciprocate his caresses, but again, the sudden movement elicited a moan of pain from her. Kermit had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop.

“I’m sorry, Sweetcakes” he mumbled. “You’re not up to this. I just… I couldn’t help myself”.

“That makes two of us”, Sarah replied, and Kermit’s heart did a victory dance in his chest.  

He cleared his throat.

“That is some impressive piece of art you’ve got there”.

“Thank you. I just got it, like a month before meeting you. It only just healed. They’re the wings of the Valkyrie”, Sarah said and Kermit’s skin crawled. If that wasn’t an omen, he didn’t know what was.  He traced the outline of the tattooed wings gently with a finger and smiled again when she shuddered at his touch.

"Did it hurt much?" he asked.

"Like a bitch", Sarah replied and they both laughed. Kermit remembered he was supposed to be giving her a neck massage, so he applied some of the thick ointment to his hands and rubbed them together before splaying them over Sarah’s shoulders. He began a gentle massage, working up and down her neck and shoulders, his nose wrinkled to try and keep out the strong smell of menthol. His large hands kneaded and soothed her strained muscles, and it was but an almost imperceptible change in her breathing that told him Sarah was about to fall asleep. He used Sarah’s discarded towel to wipe off his hands and pulled her jersey back to rights. He settled himself beside her, his stance rather tense, and crossed his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to hold her so he could drift off with her safely ensconced in his arms, but for the life of him he dared not touch her again.

Sarah soon curled up on her side in her sleep, lying very close to him. After a few minutes a pale arm landed across Kermit’s torso, and he smiled to himself.  He turned off the lamp, pressed a kiss to the top of her sleeping head and whispered:

“Sleep tight, Sweetcakes”.

And seeing at how things were, he saw nothing wrong in shifting to his side so that he could cradle her in his arms.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Kermit slowly woke up after what had felt like only minutes of sleep. In truth, he’d slept for nearly seven hours, and the morning presented itself sunny and full of earthy scents and sounds: wind blowing softly, birds chirping and even a cricket still chirruping merrily in a corner. The sunrays pierced the tattered curtain of the only window in the bedroom and landed directly over Sarah’s head, making it shine with blue hues. The only thing amiss in this picture of perfection was Mickey Mouse’s ears in the corner of the screen, Kermit thought sarcastically.

Sarah was sound asleep, still in the same position of the night before. Her breathing was deep and her face appeared completely relaxed. Never in a million years had Kermit thought he’d feel such at ease, waking up in a strange bed, with a strange woman and for once, not fearing he’d get murdered in his sleep or soon after mating, excuse the black-widow pun.

 _Of course, that might be because you didn’t ‘mate’ with her,_ he told himself.

He turned to examine the sleeping woman beside him and, unsurprisingly, he was assaulted by a sudden lash of guilt.  _What the hell are you doing?_ He told himself. _You nearly got her killed yesterday!_

Of course he knew it would come to this. After all, it wasn’t the first time. But for the life of him he couldn’t fathom why did he keep grasping at straws, hoping for some normalcy when he knew that was something he’d never get. He couldn’t drag Sarah into his world and have her pay the price of loving an ex-mercenary. It would get her hurt or killed, and sooner rather than later. In his self-lashing, Kermit conveniently chose to forget Sarah _was already_ in that world up to her eyebrows, and through no fault of his own, in fact.

 _Yeah, and that’s another thing, you creep. She’s Paul’s_ daughter, _for God’s sake. How sick is that? You’re supposed to see her as your sister, nothing else, not— Man, you just won’t give me a chance, will you?_ Kermit retorted inside his own mind. _No! It’s unfair to ask it of her, to—_

“Hey” Sarah’s sleepy voice cut through his mental dialogue. “What time is it?”

“Around 9 am, Sweetcakes” Kermit replied. “How are you feeling?”

Sarah stretched cautiously and Kermit held his breath as she grazed his skin lightly with her movements. She sat up and tried to move her head, grimacing in pain.

“Well, that’s not good at all”, she mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“Given the stiffness and the amount of pain, I’d say I’ve got a second degree sprain” Sarah answered. “I’m going to need a goddamned collar”.

She seemed less than cheered at the thought. Kermit’s guilt rose to stratospheric levels and Sarah turned slowly to look at him, critically eyeing his crestfallen expression.

“Don’t tell me you feel responsible for this”.

“Oh, yeah”.

“Well, don’t. You saved both our asses back there, in case you didn’t notice”, Sarah said sternly.

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. You did what it had to be done under the circumstances. End of story”.

“You sure you weren’t a mercenary in a past life?” Kermit said, only half-jokingly.

“Maybe”, Sarah replied. “So now I’m trying to make amends by healing people”.

“Do you take assistants?” Kermit said immediately, making her laugh.

 _I can’t,_ he thought. _God forgive me, but I can’t drive her away. I need her._

“Are you hungry, Sweetcakes?” he asked out loud.

“Not really, but I guess I’ll have to eat at some point”.

“You guess correctly”, Kermit agreed, kicking his feet out of the bed. “I’ll see what’s edible and then we’ll work out a plan. You stay right here”.

“But—”

“No buts. You need to get some rest if you want that injury to heal”.

Sarah couldn’t really argue with that, so she acquiesced.

“Yeah, I guess”.

“Atta girl” Kermit smiled at her, and apparently without thinking bent forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled back before Sarah could react, and it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen and realized he was whistling to the tone of  “She loves you” that it downed on him what he’d done. _Smooth, Griffin._ Real _smooth._

He browsed through the cans in the den and managed to concoct a mixture that resembled every potion he’d seen bubbling inside a cauldron in a thousand Halloween movies. He sincerely hoped it was edible because they were running out of things to eat. Of course, he could go out and hunt, but something told him that Sarah would definitely refuse to eat a freshly killed animal. There was still some wine left from last night, but cosmopolitan as it sounded, Kermit really didn’t think they should start the day with booze. A sudden brainwave hit him and he exited the cabin through the kitchen door, walked to the nearest bush and collected a handful of berries. They weren’t poisonous, he was sure of it. And perhaps they could turn them into juice, or just eat them raw.

He walked back to the cabin and found Sarah already showered and moving stiffly around the kitchen… with two cups of coffee in her hands!

“Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes, Sweetcakes!” Kermit exclaimed heartily. “Where did you find coffee?”

“Inside an old fruit salad can”, Sarah said, handing him a cup.

“Oh, God bless the proverbial female curiosity” Kermit said fervently. He tasted his beverage and closed his eyes thankfully. The coffee was strong and savory (if a bit old), and Kermit wondered for a moment how had she made it, as there was no coffee pot in sight. But then he saw the pewter jar sitting on the stove and the sieve full of coffee dregs and blessed her again for her resourcefulness.

 _Yes, I’m in love. So sue me,_ he thought, looking at her. They sat on the kitchen table and Kermit split the berries evenly between the two of them. He ladled two bowls with his horrid mixture, feeling more embarrassed than ever.

“That smells really good” she said from her seat.

“Don’t mock me, Sweetcakes. I can’t compete with this glorious coffee of yours, but—”

“No, I mean it, it does smell good” Sarah said, unable to suppress a smile. Kermit looked at her with a feigned glare and the both of them burst into laughter.

“You’re a terrible liar”, Kermit declared.

“Ooh, you’d be surprised!” Sarah retorted.

“Is that a challenge? By God, you’re asking for it!” Kermit warned her. “Don’t mock your elders and eat your goddamned goo!”

Sarah was still laughing and Kermit felt he could behold that sight forever.

“You’re not wearing your sunglasses”, Sarah pointed out when she regained the power of speech.

Kermit realized that for the first time, and he was as surprised as anyone when he heard himself say:

“I don’t need them with you”.

Sarah gifted him with a smile that brightened his whole week.

“Thank you for that” she said.

 

They discussed their options over breakfast and agreed that the safest course of action for the time being was to remain in the cabin. True to his word, Kermit tried to send someone over to Skalany’s to pick up Bailey, but two hours later he received an encrypted message on his humongous cellphone from patrolman Honeywells that said Bailey was nowhere to be found, but that Skalany’s apartment showed no signs of forced entry.

Kermit’s heart sank at the text message. He forced himself to walk into the bedroom, where he’d instructed Sarah to have a lie-in, so he could tell her. It was heart-breaking to see her, the woman who’d dodged death in his Corvair with nothing more than a white-knuckled grip on a door handle, shedding silent tears for her lost dog. Kermit didn’t even fight the impulse this time and went to her side to wrap his arms around her. He rocked her gently and tried to comfort her, holding her until her tears subsided.

They were both mystified as to how had the dog managed to exit a seemingly closed apartment. The logical conclusion was that it wasn’t closed enough, which begged the question of who might have opened it. Of course, the obvious answer to that was either Atherton or one of his goons, but Kermit was sure they would have left a trace of their presence. He only knew one person capable of breaking through walls and chains without leaving a sign… And sure enough, that very same person was now visible through the window, approaching the cabin and closely followed by Bailey.

“Caine!” Kermit exclaimed. “I should have known! Look, Sweetcakes—”

But Sarah had heard Bailey’s happy barks and was already sprinting to the front door, all pain forgotten at the sight of her beloved pet. It was really an endearing picture when they greeted, Bailey licking her face frantically and Sarah cooing him with sweet nothings among a fresh cascade of tears. Kermit felt moisture creeping up his own eyes and blinked rapidly in disbelief.

“The best testimony of a person’s worth lies within the appreciation of their dog” Caine spoke softly.

“Oh, yeah” Kermit agreed. “How did you know where we were?” he asked Caine, and then rolled his eyes as if telling himself off for asking such an obvious question.

Caine shrugged his shoulders and replied with his trademark: “I do not know”.

“How’s Skalany?” Sarah asked from the ground, where she and Bailey were still enraptured with each other.

“She is all right”, Caine replied. “The surgery finished earlier in the morning and the doctors said everything went fine”.

“We’re glad to hear that”.

“You are in danger”, Caine continued. “You… must not remain here”.

“Where do you suggest we adjourn to?” Kermit asked. “Sarah’s been injured and the car is trashed as you can see. I thought this would be the perfect hiding-spot for the time being”.

“It was. But your location has been compromised” Caine said.

“How so?”

“I think our enemy has allied himself with forces of the Dark. Ancient, evil spirits that have poisoned his chi; in this bargain, he has much to lose, though he might not have realized that yet”.

Sarah looked at the two men, nonplussed. Crackpot mercenaries were one thing, but evil spirits?

“You can’t be serious” she blurted out.

“Caine never jokes, Sweetcakes”.

“But— but— Come on, that’s—” _‘preposterous’_ was the word that came to mind, but Sarah dared not use it.

“You… mentioned Sarah was injured” Caine said to Kermit.

“Yes… in one of the crashes during the chase last night. Whiplash” Kermit explained.

Caine walked towards Sarah and kneeled beside her.

“May I?” he asked. Sarah nodded with difficulty and Caine placed both his hands around the back of her neck, moving them slightly up and down, and to the sides, kneading her shoulders. Sarah felt an electric bolt shoot through in her spine, her skin broke in goose bumps and her head dropped easily to the side. Kermit lurched forward but Caine held up a hand to stop him.

“How did you do that?” Sarah asked when she came around.

Caine shrugged.

“Do you feel better?”

“Are you kidding? It’s like it never happened! This is wonderful, thank you!”

Sarah moved her head and raised her arms, still not daring to believe the pain was gone. It was only then that it occurred to her that Caine had used her mystic powers to convince her they were dealing with supernatural things.

“We must leave now” Caine instructed simply.

“Where to?”

“I…”

“…Do not know” Kermit finished the sentence in unison with Caine, and Sarah would have laughed at their synchronization had the situation not been so serious.

“I shall know once we are on the road”, Caine clarified.

 

Hoping against all hope that the Kermitmobile still worked after the beating it had taken, they left the cabin surreptitiously, not even bothering with the breakfast dishes. Kermit downed his cup of coffee in three monstrous gulps (he was not about to let that wonderful beverage go to waste), and took the wheel with Caine in the passenger’s seat and Bailey and Sarah comfortably ensconced in the back.

“Come on, come on…” Kermit said through gritted teeth as he started the engine. The Corvair roared into life and took the stony road rattling and spurning like a kettle. Kermit winced at every sound.

 

They drove for what it felt like hours. Sarah nodded off with her head resting against Bailey and slept most of the trip. Every once in a while, Caine would point at a secondary road or a seemingly nonexistent path, driving them farther into the thick forest until Sarah wondered out loud whether they’d turn up in Narnia.

Finally they reached a clearing and Caine instructed Kermit to stop next to a sizable mound of rocks. Mystified, Kermit complied, and Bailey licked Sarah awake, as she had nodded off again.

“We in Narnia yet?” she asked sleepily.

“Probably” Kermit said.

“We’re about to cross the threshold between two worlds”, Caine said. “It is the only place where you will be safe from the forces which Atherton has associated with”.

Sarah turned to look at Kermit, her eyes wide open in blatant disbelief. Kermit only nodded, indicating they should do as told, saving explanations for later. He knew how hard it must be for Sarah to reconcile this with her rigid scientific training, but there was nothing else to be done just now.

Caine raised his arms as strong wind began to blow. He murmured something that sounded like an incantation and the rocks sprung aside, forming a gateway filled with a blinding shot of orange light. Caine motioned them to follow him and they crossed the threshold, the rocks moving back into their previous position behind them.

“Welcome, Kwai Chang Caine”, a deep voice rumbled. “You bring guests, I see”.

“Yes, Master Dao. We seek refuge from evil forces”.

“Can you not fight them…, Shambhala Master?”

“Fight is but the last resource” Caine said meekly, and Kermit fought the need to tsk at him. He preached that turn-the-other-cheek crap left, right and center, and still kicked ass thoroughly if needed be.

“Besides”, Caine was saying. “It is not I they seek”.

“They seek someone with your power”, said the voice. “They might have allied with the Shadow to get to you”.

“Oh, for crying out loud”, Kermit whispered, and Sarah tugged at his arm.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later”.

 

It had reminded Kermit awfully of the situation with Emma, when Caine had tried to warn him about her, and Kermit had dismissed his words derisively, irked at the thought of him being used by Emma and Latrodect as an emotional conduit to Caine. He seemed to recall spitting that very same phrase at Caine, in fact. Kermit had felt netted because the implication was clear: she doesn’t want you, come on, who would? It’s ME she wants. It hadn’t been in a sexual way, but nonetheless, his masculine pride had been injured to the point of nearly ripping Peter’s head off while quoting excerpts from Antony and Cleopatra when Peter himself had tried to press the matter.

 _Don’t go that way_ , he admonished himself. _This time it is completely different. No one really liked Emma, Caine least of all, but now he’s gone out of his way to keep Sarah safe. Sarah’s no_ femme fatale _, and she would certainly never associate herself with a murderous nutjob to try and poison people—_

“Kermit?” Sarah shook him slightly for the umpteenth time. “Caine says we must move on”.

For a moment there, Kermit couldn’t make any sense of the words, but it finally dawned on him that it probably meant to keep on walking, and nodding his assent, he followed Sarah and Caine meekly, closely followed by Bailey.

Caine led them into a very spacious room built into the stone walls of what it certainly seemed to be a cave. It was lit only by candles and it smelled strongly of incense. There was a humongous gong in the middle of the room and long columns with odd engravings held the ceiling.

“This is our sanctuary” Caine explained.

 

Kermit had heard Peter say more than once that both Caine and the Ancient were Shambhala Masters, but he had remained with a mere academic knowledge of what exactly Shambhala was. He had thought it was some sort of degree within Shaolin priesthood, perhaps even the highest one, but he couldn’t be bothered to research further.

“This… is Shambhala, isn’t it?” he asked Caine softly.

“Yes, it is”, Caine replied.

Sarah looked at them.

“Sham—what?”

“Shambhala. It is… a mystic, legendary city of Tibet. Its inhabitants are… devoted to wisdom”, said Caine a bit too innocently.

“Yeah… and they can pretty much fly and walk through walls and on water and kick the stuffing out of the bad guys”, Kermit finished.

“That… is an overstatement”, Caine said.

“But— But, when you say legendary it means... You mean— Did we really—?”

Caine seemed to guess what Sarah was struggling to say

“Yes, my child, we did. We need to perform a ritual so you both shall be safe”.

“I’m not in danger—” Kermit began.

“Your chis are entwined”, Caine said sternly. “If she is in danger, so are you”.

“Our what now?”

“Your Chis. The Chi… is your source of inner light… force and energy”. Caine explained.

 

Sarah stared at Kermit, who merely shrugged his shoulders as if saying “don’t ask”. Bailey was sniffing around and he was drawn to a nearby fountain which splashed happily onto the stone floor. Sarah followed her dog to see what he was up to, and Kermit did the same with her, fighting with all his might the overwhelming need to draw out his gun. Somehow he didn’t think his Desert Eagle would be greeted with benevolent eyes in that place.

A bald man, dressed in a robe of the purest white, walked out a semi-hidden threshold to greet them. He bowed at Caine and glanced at Sarah with such intensity that Kermit began to feel irked.

“There is a strong Bond between them”, the bald Shambhala master spoke with a thundering voice. “It shall be both their greatest strength and weakness”.

Kermit stared at him, blinking in confusion. That was preposterous. But Sarah seemed to have understood what that cryptic remark meant, because her expression shifted lightly into half-concealed concern. He was about to say something —perhaps some nonsensical words of reassurance—, when he heard the Bald Man’s voice echoing in his head.

_“You must shed your fears, Knight. You must let emotion fill your Chi. It shall be to your advantage and hers. You must hesitate no more and embrace your destiny. Stop running, for you have found what you sought”._

 

The voice was deafening. Kermit fought the impulse of covering his ears with his hands, as he knew it would be of no use and perhaps even give Sarah the impression that he was hallucinating. He turned to look at her and was surprised to see her face contorted in a pained expression and her whole body shaking like a leaf. He moved to go to her, but again Caine held up a hand to stop him.

 _“Leave her, Knight”,_ the Bald Man’s voice spoke again in his head. _“She must fight her own demons”._

 _“Why do you keep calling me Knight?”_ Kermit thought.

_“It shall be revealed to you in due time”._

 

Kermit watched Sarah struggle to remain on her feet and fail, falling with eerie grace to her knees on the cold stone floor as silent tears glided down her face. Even Bailey felt her distress, but one look from Caine sufficed to stop him in his tracks.

 _“What are you doing to her?”_ Kermit thought. _“Just leave her alone!”_

_“Silence, Knight”._

Even as the Bald Man mentally chastised Kermit he was giving out an eloquent speech inside Sarah’s mind, rattling her to the bone marrow as he tore her defensive walls one by one, and left the more precious and inner pieces of her soul raw and exposed. The pain she felt was both physical and emotional, sort of a gigantic toothache glowing and pulsing angrily in the center of her being. She couldn’t meet Kermit’s eyes, sure that he’d be repulsed at her weakness, at her faults, fears, hopes and dreams so ruthlessly bared.

 _“Please, please stop…”_ she could only beg. _“I can’t— It hurts too much!”_

 _“It must be done”,_ the Bald Man spoke without inflection. “ _You must give what you keep for yourself so you shall learn it is not tarnished and unworthy. Spread your wings, Chooser of the Slain”._

_“No, no, no, please, don’t—”_

 

A soft glimmering light irradiated from her skin, shifting and curling in capricious shapes until it expanded and enveloped Kermit, who had only time to notice Sarah’s visible pain, a flood of tears still cascading, her neck muscles standing out like tense chords, her hands balled up into white-knuckled fists. He tried to reach out to her, but he was hit by a force so overwhelming he fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

It was too intense, too bright, too big for words; the love, the emotion, the fear, the hope that she had felt since they’d met, raw, magnified and unspeakably beautiful, surrounding him, piercing him, humbling him and elating him at the thought of being worthy of such a gift. He felt something flow out of him, and as he writhed in agony feeling Sarah’s pain mirrored in him, Kermit opened his eyes fractionally to see Sarah enveloped inside his own bright light, hugging herself and smiling through her tears.

Finally it was over and Sarah collapsed into his arms, weeping like a child, painful, exhausted cries that seemed drawn from her. Kermit rocked her as she held onto him as a drowning man would clutch a life-saving board.

“It’s OK, Sweetcakes, it’s OK” he repeated as he rocked her. He was seeing her in a new light, no pun intended, and felt profoundly grateful of whatever serendipity had brought them together.

“Thank you”, he said softly. “I love you”.

Sarah hugged him even tighter, until Kermit wondered idly whether she’d crack his ribs. He found he really didn’t care.

“I love you” she whispered against his chest.

 

They remained on their knees in each other’s arms until the Bald Man’s voice startled them out of their reverie.

 _“Your love has been sowed, honed and sealed”,_ he said. _“It shall link you in this and every life. It shall be your weapon against the darkness that haunts you and your kin”._

Kermit wasn’t sure whether to thank him or shoot him, so he did neither. Caine bowed to the Bald Man, put his hands on Sarah and Kermit’s shoulders and motioned them off the stone room, with Bailey following suit.

They walked in silence until they reached the rock gateway, crossed it and stumbled to the earthy ground in the middle of the forest where they’d left the Corvair. Out of long habit, Kermit sprang to his feet in immediate alert, only to find Caine already helping Sarah up. Apparently he was unruffled by the recent events, as if they had done nothing more exciting than brush their teeth.

Sarah walked unsteadily to the car and climbed into the back seat still shaking uncontrollably.

“That was like ten years of therapy squeezed into thirty seconds”, she managed with a wavering smile.

“Oh, yeah”, Kermit agreed wholeheartedly.

“It… had to be done”, Caine stated simply.

Kermit rolled his eyes, put on his glasses and climbed into the Corvair.

“Now where to?” he asked, turning on the engine.

“I… do not know”.

 

It was all Kermit could do to stop himself from smacking the back of the Shaolin’s head.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

“Anything, yet?” Peter asked frantically.

“Nothing” Blake replied. “It’s like they banished into thin air”.

“I wouldn’t put Pop past that”, Peter said, “but we need to exhaust our mundane options before moving onto supernatural grounds”.

“Well, I’m stumped”, Blake said. “I honestly don’t know what else to do”.

“Paul’s going to kill me”, Peter murmured ruefully. “Did you bug my father’s apothecary shop?”

“Yes, I did. I haven’t picked up anything yet. He’s not there, Pete. Not even the Ancient knows where he is”.

“Oh, he does”, Peter chided him. “He just won’t tell us out of some mystic bond of secrecy”. He rolled his eyes as he stood up. “Well, I’m going to Paul’s. I can’t put it off any longer”.

 

He walked out of the precinct and ran into Jody in the parking lot.

“Hey” she greeted him flatly.

“Hey, partner”, Peter replied. “How’s Skalany?”

“She’s almost good as new. Of course, she’s still in a little pain, and a bit pissed because your Dad hasn’t visited her”.

“Yes, well, he’s missing, isn’t he? And so are the goddamned Lovebirds. Boy, is Paul going to have my head”.

“They’re all of age and responsible for their own actions”, Jody said. “You can’t be blamed”.

“Yes, well, try telling him that. I must take off. See you later”.

“Sure”.

Jody walked into the precinct, forcing herself not to look back; and Peter got into his Stealth wondering what had brought on Jody’s coldness towards him.

 

He drove to the Blaisdells’ spacious home, parking the Stealth near the front door. He used his own key to let himself in and called out his foster father’s name.

“Paul? Paul? Are you in here?”

He walked into the semi-darkened living room and tried for the light to no success. Apparently, the main chandelier was out.

“Paul?” he called out again, the slightest hint of worry creeping into his voice. He searched the house high and low, and found no sign of Paul. Out of habit, he drew out his Beretta and marched himself to the wine cellar, the only place he hadn’t looked yet.

Paul was there, surrounded by old albums and photographs, a gun near at hand and a snifter of brandy in the coffee table. With a sigh of relief, Peter holstered his own weapon and walked towards his mentor.

“Paul?”

Captain Blaisdell raised his eyes at him and Peter’s heart cringed at the pain he saw etched in every line of his face.

“Are you OK?”

“Just tired, Peter”.

“Tired and what else?”

“Tired…” Paul sighed, dragging out the word, “Too many things, too many horrors, too many faults and sins to repay. I can’t face it anymore… I wonder— I wonder if there is a reaping day after all… Did you know Simms tried to talk me out of coming back to the precinct? She said I should enjoy my family while I still could. She was right, Peter, she was right. I should have never returned.”

Peter blinked in confusion. Seeing Paul in such a state of defection made what he had to do a hundred times harder.

“Paul— I— Sarah’s missing”.

Paul nodded as if he already knew.

“I imagined something of the sort would happen”.

“We think she’s with Kermit” Peter continued. “They never made it to Skalany’s apartment after they left the hospital. My father disappeared on the next day. We don’t know if the events are somehow connected, but— well, you know my Pop”.

“That I do”.

“We’ve tried everything to locate them”, Peter said hurriedly. “Blake has bugged Sarah’s place, and my Pop’s. He couldn’t get past Kermit’s alarm system, but we have a patrolman across the street from his apartment. No one’s been there. We put an APB on them to no luck. No one’s made a call or sent ransom notes”.

“They wouldn’t”, Paul said dryly. “They’d most likely send us their heads in boxes”.

Peter felt bile rising up his throat.

“Don’t, Dad”, he said, using the appellative he’d been forced to drop after he joined the Police Academy. “They’re OK, I’m sure of it”.

Paul sighed heavily.

“One can only hope. Care for a drink?”

“I’m on the clock, but thanks”.

 

They sat together in comfortable silence.

 

“Rykker asked me once, you know”, Paul said suddenly.

“What?”

“How did I do it... Having a family… doing what I did. He mocked me, even. He said I was a foolish dreamer, for thinking the past wouldn’t catch up with me”.

“Did you?” Peter asked.

“I can’t say. I used to think I didn’t, that I’d seen too much to remain an optimist. I guess all those years in the Police force have mellowed me, ironic as it sounds… As if somehow being a Captain for the good guys made amends for once being one of the bad guys… And that would make my family untouchable”.

 “You weren’t one of the bad guys” Peter blurted out.

“Wasn’t I? I’m not so sure anymore”.

“Is that why you never really gave up— that other life?” Peter asked.

“Well, what can I tell you…Once a mercenary, always a mercenary”, Paul said ruefully. “Which I guess is the reason why Kermit wisely chose to remain alone”.

Peter cleared his throat.

“Yeah, as to that… you might be shocked”.

“Oh?”

“Well, it’s not really my place, you see, but—”

“Sarah?”

“Oh, yeah!” Peter said, mimicking Kermit’s trademark line.

“Is that so?” Paul chuckled. “Well, I should have seen it coming. He did seem infatuated with her since before meeting her”.

Peter stared at his foster father in astonishment. He still recalled Paul’s jealous fit when Carolyn had announced she had a boyfriend, and it had took him ages to come to terms with the idea of his eldest daughter getting married. Things had been slightly easier for Kelly, but only just. And neither of them had dated a mercenary.

“How many glasses have you had, Dad?” he asked suspiciously.

Paul laughed openly at that.

“I’m not drunk, dear boy, far from it. It’s just that I am honestly happy for Kermit. And you’d have to be blind not to realize those two are a match made in Heaven”.

“You sound like Pop more and more”, Peter said.

“That doesn’t make it any less true”.

“Well, that’s good to hear”, Peter concluded. “Kermit was concerned about your reaction. He didn’t set much store in mine, though”, he added resentfully.

Paul laughed again and patted his back.

“When has he ever?”

“Gee, thanks”.

“You two are the best sons I could ever ask for” Paul said, suddenly serious. “I hope you know that”.

“I know, Dad”. Peter said, “And likewise. But don’t get all maudlin on me”.

“Tender moment over”, Paul said firmly. “Now go find your sister. We need to plan our strategy”.

“So… are we displaying the Geriatric A-Team?” Peter said cheekily.

It was Paul’s turn to mimic Kermit. He took a sip of brandy, left the snifter on the table and quipped cheerfully:

“Oh, yeah!”

 

~*~

 

“This is most irregular, Blaisdell”, Rykker pointed out in his prissy British accent.

“We’ve never been anything but”, Blaisdell replied.

 _“Touché._ Still, bringing Boynton into the deal is calling for trouble. He’s quite a volatile chap. I wouldn’t trust him with a pint of water”.

“We have no other choice, now, do we?”

“No… I guess we do not. We’re getting too old for this! So, what in God’s blessed name did you do to piss Atherton off?”

“Well, _we_ killed some of his relatives, remember?” Paul said, emphasizing the “we” part, “so I guess he’s trying to repay in kind”.

“But that was… how long ago?” Rykker said distastefully.

“Around seventeen years”, Paul Blaisdell replied, and added with a hint of sarcasm: “I guess it _is_ true vengeance is a dish best served cold”.

“Yes, well… We shall make Atherton defecate ice-cubes, then”, Rykker declared. “All right, I am in. How soon can you arrange transportation?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Honestly, m’boy! You don’t expect me to adjourn to your rather uncivilized side of the pond, do you? No, we shall set our headquarters _ici chez moi_. I assure you there is no safer place in the Kingdom, possibly the world over. Besides, the lovely Annie is most anxious to see you— Well, not _see_ you, per se… But you get my drift”.

Blaisdell didn’t reply to the taunt.

“You haven’t found them, have you, my lad?” Rykker inquired.

“No, Rykker, I haven’t. I’m beginning to fear the worst”.

“How long have they been missing?”

“Seventy-two hours today” Paul informed him.

“Far be it from me to want to be a pessimistic bastard, Paul, old boy, but you know it’s the first forty-eight hours that makes the difference between—”

“I _do_ know” Blaisdell cut him off, annoyed.

“I seem to have touched a nerve”, Rykker said, trying to sound apologetic and failing dismally.

Paul bit back a caustic reply.

“Well, my lad, it seems we haven’t got anyone to protect as of yet. I fail to find a reason for you to have called me. Unless—”

“I had thought of that”, Paul accepted, jumping ahead of Rykker. “Assemble a rescue team, just like the old times. But it is of no use if we don’t know where _the hell_ they are! I merely wanted to secure the next step, once we have found them”.

“ _If”_ Rykker remarked acidly. _“If_ you find them, old chap. Well, my offer still stands… Get them over here and I shall summon Steadman and Katya, and whatever is left of our tattered Dragonswing…, Including Boynton and his abysmal manners”.

“Thank you, Rykker. I— I won’t ever be able to repay you”.

“Oh, you shall, old boy, you shall. Trust me. Do you know, it is a good thing we’re getting so blooming old? Each year that passes we’re left with fewer foes to worry about!” Rykker concluded brightly and hung up, without giving Blaisdell a chance to reply.

Paul put the receiver back into its cradle and leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. He rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes, with half a mind of getting up to pour himself a drink. He decided against it, and remained motionless until the doorbell ringing far away brought him back to reality.

He forced himself up and out of his chair, and dragged his feet all the way to the front door, clearly not in the mood to entertain uninvited guests. He unbolted and unlocked the heavy wooden door and stood rooted to the spot as the sight of Caine, Kermit, Sarah and a dog greeted him. Paul blinked rapidly as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating, and when they didn’t banish into thin air, he motioned them in, still in stunned silence.

“Thank you” quipped Kermit cheerfully as he crossed the threshold hand-in-hand with Sarah.

Paul seemed to have lost the power of speech. He followed his daughter and surrogate son’s motions towards the living room, closely followed by a sturdy dog with a smeared snout. The animal sniffed at him curiously, wagged his tail and made himself right at home, jumping onto the nearest couch and curling into a ball to nap. Kermit and Sarah sat themselves together and Blaisdell felt oddly endeared at the sight of his daughter leaning her head on Kermit’s shoulder as if she knew it was the only place she’d find both support and comfort. Kermit wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, and Paul noticed this glow about them, something intangible but so strong there was no question about its existence. It was as if their souls had been merged together, making them one indissoluble being.

On the other hand, it could just be that Paul had hung around Caine far too much for his own good.

“I hate to sound like a pain in the ass”, Paul began, not really meaning it. “But where THE HELL have you two been? I’ve been worried SICK! Couldn’t you have CALLED?”

Kermit and Sarah turned to look at each other sheepishly, feeling like a pair of teenagers being told off by a parent who’d reached the end of his patience.

 _This is so freaking weird_ , Sarah thought. _No, it’s not. We’re not actually blood-related, you remember that, right? We just happen to share a father figure. You can give Oedipus a run for his money!_

“Well? What have you to say for yourselves?” Paul demanded.

“Well—” Sarah began.

“We—” Kermit interjected.

“I am afraid”, Caine cut in, “that it was my doing”.

Paul, who had been pacing back and forth the living room’s entire length, halted and turned to look at Caine.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There was… Something that needed to be done”, Caine replied calmly. “We couldn’t wait. Lives hung in balance”

Sarah found it amusing that Caine felt Kermit and her getting literally married in another plane of existence was a matter of life and death, but decided not to comment on the subject.

“Care to explain?” Paul said, fighting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Caine looked at the couple sitting on the couch. Kermit took his cue and launched into relating to Paul the events that had led to their disappearance. It was a detailed account, brought on by years of doing similar reports on top-secret missions as well as Kermit’s conscientious personality. However, he left out some of the finest details of his ethereal bonding with Sarah. Kermit felt it was too big for words and too precious to share, at that.

“I must also beg your forgiveness, Paul”, Kermit concluded, unable to meet his mentor’s eyes even with his dark shades firmly in place. “I know I should’ve kept away out of respect for you… But I couldn’t”.

Sarah could sense where Kermit was going with his little speech and tensed in anticipation.

“The fact is”, Kermit went on”, that I’ve been in love with your daughter ever since I began dreaming of her”.

Sarah looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t known that.

“There is nothing to forgive”, Paul said with his first genuine smile in seventy-two hours. “I am truly happy for the both of you. It was high time that you seized the day and allowed yourself some happiness for a change, Kermit. And I think it is every parent’s dream to see his daughter with a man of whose worth he can personally vouch for. I’m afraid I can’t say that of my _other_ son-in-law”.

 _Son-in-law_ , thought Kermit. _Gracious me, SON-IN-LAW. Things can’t get weirder than this._

But of course, he was wrong.

“During your absence”, Paul continued, “I took the liberty of contacting Rykker. I had a half-formed plan of trying to rescue you… Anyway, Rykker has agreed to gather the Dragonswing to deal with Atherton. We leave for London tomorrow”.

Sarah jumped on her seat.

“Wow, wow, _wow!”_ she exclaimed. “Excuse me? I’ve missed work three days already! I can’t just go gallivanting off to London!”

Kermit snickered. Paul gifted his daughter with a somewhat condescending smile.

“Dearest”, he said. “This is a matter of life and death. You’ve escaped twice already. Next time you might not be so lucky”.

“But—”

“No buts”.

“I don’t even have a visa”, Sarah said triumphantly.

“Let me worry about that”, Paul said, and Kermit smiled at the look of disappointment on Sarah’s face. She had truly thought she had the old man against the wall with that one.

“See?” Kermit offered. “I told you he can be a little too overprotective”.

“Yeah, well. Birds of a feather…” Sarah muttered mutinously.

 

So it was settled. Sarah and Kermit were given orders to pack their belongings and stand by for further instructions, so they made a quick trip to their respective apartments to pick up a few things. Sarah put up a bit of a fight over Bailey’s immediate destiny, but ended up giving into Paul’s wishes and agreeing to leave him to keep a recovering Skalany company.

Sometime during that afternoon, County General Hospital got a finely crafted resignation note from Sarah, explaining vaguely the sudden need to travel away due to a family emergency. Blaisdell had taken it upon himself to both create and deliver said note, so Sarah didn’t learn she had resigned from her post until she was already on the plane. As Paul had suspected, she nearly had a conniption over the scheme, but it was much too late to do anything about it.

By the end of that very long day, they were all gathered in the Blaisdells luminous dining room, sharing a pizza and laughing at inanities. Peter had joined them along with two bulky backpacks and he had commented it was the first time he’d had a chance to actually bring luggage along to a Dragonswing’s adventure.

Peter too noted the remains of what had transpired between Kermit and Sarah in Shambhala, and looked at his father in silent inquiry. He couldn’t fathom why had Caine felt it was so important to take the couple to Shambhala, and his mystic side wondered if maybe Shambhala was the place where true love was woven, and all Caine had done was to reinforce that bond. He also couldn’t figure how would that protect anybody from evil forces or rogue mercenaries, but his Pop was nothing if not an expert on doing inexplicable things that in the end made a lot of sense. Actually, that was the main reason Caine was going to London as well.

“With murderers and brigands we can deal” Paul had said, signaling to himself and Kermit. “But evil forces, well… That’s your department, Caine”.

 

Caine merely bowed.

 

After a while, they finally decided to call it a night and retire for a much needed rest. Kermit wanted more than life itself to follow Sarah into her appointed bedroom, and he could see his wish mirrored in Sarah’s eyes, but neither of them could surpass the conflicting thought of doing so under Paul’s roof. So they adjourned to their respective chambers, but not without first melting into a lingering kiss.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was snowing when they landed in London.

Sarah gasped as the cold wind hit her face and burrowed further into her light coat.

“Damn it, I’m not dressed for this!” she snarled through clattering teeth.

Kermit turned to look at her, trembling in her red coat, black hair flowing in the wind, dusted with snowflakes, and her cheeks rosy from the cold and he stared, unable to help it.

“You’re like the embodiment of Snow White”, he said, fascinated.

Sarah felt warm inside at the heart-felt compliment, but her treacherous mouth opened of its own volition, almost ruining the moment.

“Thank you… but this particular Snow White is going to get frostbite”, she declared. “Please, let’s just get into a heated cab?”

Kermit nodded in assent and was about to hail a cab when a black, shiny town car with tinted windows leveled with them and stopped. Kermit instinctively jumped in front of Sarah and reached for his gun, performing at the same time a quick surveillance from behind his dark glasses trying to locate both the rest of their party and other possible sources of danger.

The town car’s black window rolled down and Rykker’s head poked out.

“Do save your paranoia for later, Griffin, won’t you?” he said. “Not that I don’t appreciate that your skills have remained intact, but it is freezing out there. Get into the blasted car already”.

 

Kermit nodded in response and opened the door so Sarah could get in. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paul, Caine and Peter not far behind, their breaths coming out in white clouds around their faces. Only Caine seemed thoroughly unaffected by the weather despite he wore no overcoat and walked towards the car as if was taking a stroll on a warm beach.

“I’m a Shaolin too, you know”, Peter complained once they were all inside the car. “How come I’m still freezing?”

“Your mind remains mundane, my son”, Caine replied.

Kermit and Sarah snickered and Peter stuck out his tongue at them.

“Well, well, well, Caine!” Rykker exclaimed, “Long time, no see!”

Caine bowed awkwardly from his seat.

“Paul. Peter”, Rykker greeted them in turn. Then he looked at Sarah and raised an eyebrow. “And who might this charming young lady be?”

“She’s my daughter, Rykker” Paul intervened.

“Your— But I thought—”

“We’ve only recently became acquainted”, Sarah offered. “I’m Sarah Greene, Mr. Rykker, pleased to meet you”.

“Charmed, I’m sure!” Rykker replied gallantly, but still looked at Paul intently. It was clear he wasn’t about to let Blaisdell off the hook.

Paul sighed.

“Do you remember Jing-Li?" he said at last.

“Of course I remember her, old chum! Do you mean to tell me— you _can’t_ be serious!

Paul only nodded.

“Jesus _wept_ , Paul!” Rykker exclaimed. “Were you out of your bleeding mind? You could have ended up as Farinelli’s successor just as easily with that woman!”

Kermit chuckled.

“That bad, uh?” Sarah said, amused.

“You don’t know the half of it!” Rykker said. “No offense, young lady, but your dear old Mum was as dangerous as they come. If I might be so bold…after all, you’re family now, I must say I’m forced to conclude that Papa Paul was thinking with the wrong head at the time”.

Kermit and Peter let out a string of guffaws.

“You’re one to laugh”, Rykker went on, pointing at Kermit. “You’ve been involved with your share of unsavory characters yourself, to my recollection”.

Kermit stopped laughing at once.

“Don’t”, he said icily. “I’m giving you fair warning”.

Rykker’s face distended with the hint of a diplomatic smile, and decided to remain silent. After all, even a man much less intelligent than he was would have known at once why Kermit wanted the subject closed.

 

The car drove silkily through the snowy streets until it reached a tall wrought-iron gate that opened with a screech to let them in. The car followed a cobbled path and circled the snow-covered roundabout at the end, until it came to a halt near the main entrance. A butler with an impeccable livery opened the door and Rykker’s driver stepped out of the vehicle to let the passengers out.

They walked through the door almost in a straight line. The butler took their coats and shunned them into a well-hidden closet, then discreetly disappeared through a side door. Sarah walked around the entrance hall, admiring the Swarovski chandeliers, the rich bronze burnishes, the polished woods and the beautiful decoration. The place screamed wealth loud and clear, and Sarah wondered how the mysterious Mr. Rykker had acquired his goods.

“Welcome to my humble home”, said Rykker without a trace of modesty, “and your humble home as well—, for the time being, at least. Ah, Lucas!” he exclaimed at the sight of the butler’s return, carrying a tea tray, “you’ve brought refreshments! Jolly good!”

“Mr. Steadman called, sir”, Lucas informed Rykker. “He said his flight has been delayed, but that he and his daughter shall join us for supper”.

“Wonderful, wonderful”, Rykker said.

“Katya’s coming?” asked Peter, suddenly interested.

“Of course, my lad”, Rykker replied. “She’s deadly. We need her”.

“Exactly why do ‘we’ _need_ her?” Sarah asked. “I mean, what’s your plan?”

“It’s best if you don’t know”, Rykker replied condescendingly. “There’s no room for tourists in this”.

“Well, I’m not exactly a tourist, am I?” Sarah pointed out, her eyes as steely as Paul’s; “For all I know, I was dragged here pretty much against my will, so I think that entitles me to know what the hell you are planning to get me involved in”.

“She is right”, Kermit interjected.

Rykker sighed.

“Fair enough”, he said. “The truth is we don’t have a fully formed plan as of yet. But in the end, it is all very simple… We must get rid of Atherton”.

Sarah blinked at Rykker’s off-hand declaration, but said nothing. Although there was an intrinsic cruelness about her which enabled her to regard certain things with cool detachment, she still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around the idea of calmly offing someone.

“Think of it as euthanizing a rabid dog”, Rykker said helpfully. “We’re actually performing a social service”.

“Yeah… that’s what politicians say of wars”, Sarah retorted. “That’s just it. I think we’re much too accustomed to assume it is wrong for the bad guy to kill people, but it is honorable for the good guy to seek righteous revenge and kill the bad guy. We even expect it. Problem is… How do we tell them apart?”

Kermit nodded. That very same question had haunted him back in his mercenary days. It still did, from time to time.

“Well, I guess my morals have gone numb after all these years”, Rykker said off-handedly. “Growing a conscience is a luxury one can’t afford, being a mercenary and all, my lass. It can get you killed, or turn you into a liability in the field. Wasn’t that the reason you left, Griffin?”

Kermit lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose so he could peek over the rim.

“No”, he replied coolly. “I left because I learned the greatest foes were domestic”.

Rykker bowed at him mockingly.

 _“Touché”_ he said. “Well! Your wife and daughters will be with us presently, Paul”, Rykker addressed Blaisdell, who had remained quiet since their arrival. “They went for a stroll in the woods. Perhaps you would like to freshen up for dinner in the meantime?”

 

~§~

 

 

Steadman was only marginally easier to handle than witty old Rykker, in Sarah’s opinion. He had his own code of ethics and a dry sense of humor that perfectly matched that of their host; Sarah decided it must be a British thing, and thought nothing more of it.  Steadman’s daughter, Katya, was not at all how Sarah had pictured her when she noticed Peter’s interest at the mention of her name: Sarah had rather envisioned Katya as a _femme fatale_ , complete with arcane tattoos, gothic make up and stiletto heels, but nothing could be farther from the truth, as Katya was athletic but petite, with short, light-blond hair that curled around her head, and a mischievous smile that gave her the air of a rogue elfin. Try as she might, Sarah couldn’t believe Katya was the deadly mercenary Rykker had pronounced her: it was rather like seeing Tinkerbell shooting people off with a Kalashnikov.

Although on second thought, Tinkerbell was quite a bitch.

 

The Geriatric A-Team, as Peter called it, was almost complete, and Rykker filled their newly arrived guests in on recent events. Somewhat reluctantly, Steadman agreed to participate and began spewing suggestions that Rykker disdainfully waved off. In the end they managed to outline a plan which Sarah couldn’t find head nor tail to and adjourned to the dining room where the rest of the Blaisdell family awaited, having returned from their stroll. Sarah stood on the threshold, unsure as to how to proceed. Paul’s two ‘legitimate’ daughters were seated on each side of a blonde woman with dark glasses, who Sarah assumed must be Annie. Sarah didn’t sense any active hostility from them, but still felt like an intruder and instinctively chose to remain behind as Paul went to greet them.

“Sarah, come over here”, Paul indicated and Sarah did as told, walking slowly towards her father. “Girls, this is Sarah. Sarah, these are your mother and sisters”.

He had said it as if there was no doubt about it, and indeed no one questioned Paul’s statement. Slightly awkward introductions followed suit. Sarah felt Carolyn, the dark-haired sister scrutinizing every inch of her and hunched slightly against her will. Carolyn turned to her blonde sister, Kelly, and said triumphantly:

“See? I _told_ you!”

“Told her what?” Paul asked.

“I bet she’d look like you”, Carolyn explained. “Kel owes me fifty bucks”.

Peter laughed.

“That’s not fair!” Kelly wailed. “Peter, you _told_ Lyn what she looked like, don’t lie!”

“I didn’t, I swear!”

“Yes you did, and for that you’ll pay half the bet”, Kelly declared.

“Are you insane?”

“He should pay all of it if he cheated”, Kermit pointed out calmly.

“Shut up, you!” Peter retorted.

They all laughed and Sarah smiled inwardly at the sight of such a happy family, and the thought that now she belonged to it. It was a very nice feeling.

“So… what things do you like, Sarah?” Kelly asked curiously and Sarah searched for something smart to say.

“Well— er— books, I guess, and music—”

“Do you like chocolate?”

“Yeah, I—”

“Me too!” Kelly exclaimed. “Isn’t that great?”

“You weren’t separated at birth, Kel”, Carolyn observed somewhat mockingly.

“I know… I just want to know if we have things in common”, Kelly replied sheepishly.

“I’m sure we do”, Sarah volunteered.

“Do you think perhaps we could eat before this century ends?” Rykker interjected caustically.

Kelly eyed him resentfully and nodded. She grabbed Sarah’s hand and dragged her to the sit next to hers.

“He’s a mean old bastard”, she whispered to her newfound half-sister.

Sarah smiled in amusement. She found Kelly a bit childish but very pleasant indeed, with a warm personality that possibly Annie had honed. Carolyn was slightly more forbidding, a trait she surely had inherited from Paul.

 Kermit sat on Sarah’s other side, calmly observing the interaction from behind his dark glasses and smiled to himself. Surely, being part of the Blaisdell family was one of his most cherished treasures and he was very glad to see they’d welcomed Sarah with open arms. Perhaps there was some hope of normalcy and happiness for them after all.

Rykker lavished them with five extremely well served courses and dinner went on among laughter and chatter, murders and rogue mercenaries momentarily forgotten, until dessert, when Rykker pointed out Boynton, Riordan and Sterling would be joining them during the next day.

“I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep”, he said. “We’ll have plenty of things to do tomorrow”.

With that, the assembled party rose from the table and went on their separate ways.

 

Sarah’s appointed room was located at the far end of a brightly lit hallway. It was a spacious room, with a huge four-poster bed adorned with embroidered deep-red hangings and a matching quilt, settee and curtains. There was a fire crackling merrily in a corner and bucolic sceneries decorated the walls.

Sarah stepped into the adjacent bathroom and eyed the bathtub thoughtfully, considering drawing herself a warm bubble bath. She went through the cabinets in search for bath salts, opened the hot water tap and tossed in a handful of berry-scented flakes before grabbing a fluffy bathrobe from the wide selection she found for her use.

She stepped into the near-boiling water, gathering her hair in a bun at the top of her head. She used a towel to cushion her nape and slid into the foamy waters. Sarah closed her eyes and thought amusedly all that was missing was a flute of champagne to be completely decadent.

 _Champagne_ , the nagging side of her mind thought. _You could have asked for everything, including Mr. Dark Glasses in the tub with you, but no! You had to go for champagne. Way to go._

Sarah sighed. When had things had gotten so complicated, she mused. One minute they were sharing amiably a glass of wine and Gummi Bears in Skalany’s apartment, the next they were hiding from a sniper in a cabin in the woods, necking like a rather perverted version of Hansel and Gretel. Next thing Sarah knew, they were in a parallel world getting their innermost secrets bared by a bald man in a white robe who insisted on calling Kermit a Knight. _What about what he called you?_ Her mind whispered. Sarah ignored the thought, pondering instead that right after that they had flown all the way to London, with no chance whatsoever to discuss or even to adjust to the aforementioned events. It was a lot to take in, and truth be told, it was beginning to take a toll on her.

Sarah splashed her feet, blew at the foam surrounding her and sighed again.

 _“So?”_ She asked herself. “ _Where are you standing in all this?”_

 _“You know very damn well where”,_ she thought back, annoyed. “ _Why do you keep going over and over the same thing?”_

_“Well… it’s in our nature, isn’t it?”_

_“I don’t give a shit. Stop doing it.”_

_“You know I can’t.”_

_“Fine, then. Go on. See if I care”._

_“You do, that’s the problem.”_

Wishing there was something she could do to shut up that pestering side of her own mind, Sarah submerged her head with her eyes still closed, and amused herself by blowing bubbles through her nose like a child. It was relaxing. She remained in the tub until the water was tepid and then stepped out, wrapped herself in the white bathrobe and used a towel to absorb the excess of water from her hair, twisting it into a knot around her head.

She padded out of the bathroom bare-footed and walked straight to the bed, where she sat cross-legged while brushing her hair. She turned the TV on, browsed through the channels, found nothing of interest and turned it off. She braided her hair, but then decided against it and let it down so it would dry off naturally.

 _Get a sleeping gown,_ she told herself. Obediently, she rose from the bed and rummaged through her suitcase in search for it. She put it on, hanging the bathrobe in the bathroom, and walked back to bed. She curled onto her side as usual to find her posture, but sleep didn’t come. She tossed and turned, sighed in exasperation, rearranged the pillows, and tossed a bit more to no avail.

“Great”, she growled. She kicked off the luxuriant bed sheets and got up. She unpacked her suitcase and distributed her things about the room. She drank a glass of water from the tray on her bedside table. She blew her hair dry. She read a bit. She tried to watch TV. She didn’t get sleepy.

In the end, she decided to go out and explore Rykker’s sumptuous manor, thinking it was a perfect opportunity to do so undisturbed. She walked through the halls and archways, pausing every once in a while to admire a painting, a suit of armor, a piece of embroidery. She entered the library and gasped at the sight of seemingly infinite rows of books. She passed through a gallery full with stuffed hunting trophies and scuttled out disgustedly without looking back.

Sarah kept on walking —noiselessly as she was barefoot—, until she reached a double door at the left end of an ample hallway. She pushed it open and found herself inside a beautifully decorated music room. There was a magnificent Düsseldorf piano in a corner, a golden harp in the middle of the room, two banjos, three acoustic guitars, a couple of bongos and a synth. Everything looked brand new, shiny and polished as if it were for display only. It seemed that Rykker was the kind of rich man who acquired things for the sake of appearance. Sarah wondered whether he bought his books by length as well.

She walked towards the piano and lifted the lid. She pressed a key softly and listened. The piano seemed perfectly tuned.

 _“Go back to bed”_ , she told herself. _“Are you insane? You haven’t played in years!”_

 _“So? There’s no one here to listen. Besides, it’s not every day you get the chance to play on a_ Düsseldorf”.

She walked quietly towards the door to close it and then returned to the piano and began to play.

~*~

 

Kermit couldn’t sleep. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the events of the previous days, although trying to no end, even for a man accustomed to strange things happening around him. And he hadn’t even had a chance to discuss them with the person that mattered the most, as she had been directly involved from the beginning. This lack of closure was nagging at him relentlessly. He just couldn’t stand it, just as he couldn’t before, with David’s unsolved murder, which made him travel half across the country to find his killer.

After spending an annoying amount of time turning around the bed, Kermit finally had enough and literally jumping out of it, he stormed out of his room with the firm intention of going out to walk himself to exhaustion and _then_ come back to get some decent sleep. But as he went down the stairs, he was distracted by a muffled sound coming out from the double wooden door which led to the music room.

It was the piano.

 

Kermit was a music lover himself. He was rather fond of opera and he even owned a piano, though he couldn’t string more than two or three basic songs together. So it was only too natural that his curiosity got the best of him. Besides, it was three in the freaking morning. Anyone who couldn’t sleep either had Kermit’s heartfelt sympathies. He walked slowly towards the door, trying to identify the stifled melody. He held out a hand and opened the door inch by inch, just enough to slip inside the room, then closing it behind him.

 

It was Sarah.

 

He nodded absently. A part of him had known all along. He admired the way her glossy cascade of hair shimmered blue with the dim light of a lamp in a corner, and he noticed she was wearing a long sleeping gown. She was sitting at the piano with her back turned to Kermit, as her fingers glided through the white keys, creating an image that was strangely alluring; he leaned his back on the door behind him, nearly lulled to sleep by the soft music, but then she started to sing and Kermit almost gasped out loud.  Though she was keeping it low, he knew a properly trained voice when he heard one, and never in a million years would he have guessed she could sing like that.

And not even once had she mentioned it.

She was singing _Hallelujah_ by Leonard Cohen, one of Kermit’s favorite artists of all times. Of course, Sarah wasn’t declaiming in a deep, raspy bass voice like the Grizzled Prophet did, but totally owning the song with spine-tingling _tessitura_ as she teared dulcet notes from the piano, not any less chilling than her voice.  

 _  
_  She kept the piano going for a bit after the last _hallelujah_ , and Kermit almost fell asleep standing up, mesmerized by the soft notes. But then he heard a soft sigh and the sound of the piano being shut.

He reacted a second too late.

“Well, hello, Kermit”, she said, walking towards the door and coming to a halt in front of him. “Been here too long?”

He nodded.

“That was… _fantastic,_ Sweetcakes!” he exclaimed. “You should do that for a living!”

“Thanks. I actually did consider it”, Sarah said, “but then, I don’t have the proper looks, so… I went back to Medicine”.

 “Why didn’t you mention you could sing like that?”

Sarah shrugged.

“I don’t know…  Conversation has not been conducive to it so far, I guess. I don’t usually mention my… abilities”.

“Wow, Sweetcakes. Just— Wow”.

“What?”

“What? Come _on!_ You have a beautiful voice! How long did you study?” he inquired, for it was obvious she had.

Sarah blushed and looked away.

“Nearly six years. Mother felt my screeching should be put to a useful end, so she decided to train it. She figured it would be such an entertainment for the guests!”

“And was it?”

“No”, Sarah laughed. “I think I sang once or twice at dinner parties but on the whole, I went full blown angsty teenager on my Mom”.

“I don’t believe that” Kermit said cheekily.

“Oh, you’d be surprised!” Sarah replied. “I was— _am_ , very self-conscious, so a part of me always feared I’d screw up and Mother’s fancy guests would laugh at me. Being an overachieving teenager, that didn’t sit too well with me”.

Sarah walked to an elegant settee and sat down. Kermit sat beside her.

“Why would anyone laugh at you? Not with that voice. They’d eat nails and shit staples— I mean— Sorry.” Kermit blushed.

“That’s OK, I’ve got quite a gutter mouth myself” Sarah replied with a smile.

“But, Sweetcakes, you’ve got to be kidding me”, Kermit insisted. “You can’t honestly think someone would laugh at you”.

Sarah didn’t reply, but the sigh she issued and the look in her eyes said plainly: _you’d be surprised._

“So… what’s keeping you up?” she asked instead.

“Don’t know” Kermit shrugged. “It happens from time to time, you?”

“I usually have trouble sleeping at a new place”, she informed him.

Kermit seemed to recall she’d slept just fine by his side at the cabin but decided not to comment on the subject. Instead, he chose to think he’d been of help then.

“Actually, I had been sleeping just fine until you were attacked”, Kermit said off-handedly, wondering if she’d bite.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that… You told Paul you dreamt of me?”

“I did. For over a month”.

“A _month?”_ she seemed shocked now. “You mean, the whole month? That must have been boring!”

Kermit was beginning to feel disquieted at the way she had of putting herself down. It reminded him too much of himself at his worst.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well”, she responded lightly. “Imagine that, having to face _me_ in each and every one of your dreams for a whole month. It’s not that interesting, is it?”

“I’ve had worse”, Kermit said more harshly than he had intended.

“Yes… I imagine so.  But still.” She was silent for a bit as if considering whether or not to ask something else. She finally made up her mind for she added: “And do you remember many of them?”

Kermit knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to say “all of them”, without blushing, so he pulled up his glasses in a studied mannerism and replied:

“Some of them, my dear, I remember some of them”.

“Who are you, Clark Gable?” she asked, and he snorted with laughter. She mirrored his smile but remained silent, moistening her lips with her tongue. She did that a lot, and Kermit imagined it was a nervous gesture of hers rather than a seductive one. Well, his rational mind thought that, all right, but the rest of him… He followed the movement of her tongue and swallowed hard, looking away immediately.

“And then what happened?” she asked at last.

“Uh?” Kermit snapped back to reality.

“You said you’d been sleeping alright until I was attacked”.

“Well, then I stopped dreaming of you and haven’t been able to sleep”.

“Aw, bummer”.

“Yes, well, maybe that could be because I’ve got the real thing?” Kermit asked hopefully.

Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Er—”

“I think I am about to break every male code known to mankind, especially since it’s usually the girl the one who asks this… but what are we?”

Sarah grinned widely.

“Oh.My.God! You’re really something else!” she said.

“Am I? Yes, indeed I am. But don’t play coy with me. What are we to each other?”

“Well. Everyone, including bald monks in parallel worlds, seems to believe we were predestined for each other. I don’t recall anyone asking, but—”

“And what do _you_ think?” asked Kermit, somewhat fearing the answer.

“I— Oh, God, you have no idea how much I suck at this” Sarah answered ruefully. “Well… I don’t want you to think— what I mean is— Dear God, I can do this, I swear! What I mean”, she said after breathing in deeply, “is that I’m evidently attracted to you, but things have unfolded rather quickly, and quite unnaturally. I don’t think I’ve known you long enough, time wise, but in other aspects… well, we’ve shared a lot. And that should make it easier, but it doesn’t. Does it make any sense?”

Kermit nodded. He felt almost the same.

“So… what do we do?”

“Well, I don’t think there’s much we _can_ do” Sarah replied. “What with the Shambhala Bonding, the entwined chis, us saving the world with the strength of our love and whatnot”.

She didn’t say it in a mocking way, but Kermit laughed all the same.

“We could just let things unfold” Sarah continued.

 _Or we could give them a nudge in the right direction,_ Kermit’s mind added automatically. Sarah eyed him thoughtfully, and Kermit wondered whether she’d read his mind. Was it maybe a little side effect from the Bonding? He’d have to ask Caine about it.

“We could do that” Kermit agreed. “Or, we could get to know each other in a more… conventional way”.

“That, too” Sarah said. “What do you suggest, a Q&A session?”

Kermit grinned wolfishly.

“You should know, Sweetcakes, a mercenary never answers direct questions”.

“I thought you weren’t one anymore?”

“Once a mercenary, always a mercenary”.

“Oooh, I see! Well, sadly for you, I’m a doctor, so I make a living out of asking questions. And I am extremely nosy”.

“Fire away” Kermit said, more calmly than he actually felt.

“Good. Let’s see… what’s your favorite book?”

Kermit jolted, a bit surprised by the question. First, because it implied she thought he liked to read (which he did, though not many people knew), and second, it told him that she enjoyed it as well, which he already knew, by the way.

“It would be hard to name a favorite book”, he replied smoothly. “But I have a fair few I read over and over… I like _Caligula,_ I shiver at the thought of _Brave New World_ becoming true, I found _The Prince_ rather entertaining and I didn’t understand a word of _Mein Kampf”._ Kermit was startled at Sarah’s expression. It looked as if she had died and gone to Heaven. “And, of course, I know most of Shakespeare’s plays by heart. What about you?” he asked.

“Well, I am not that intellectual myself” Sarah said, “I read for fun, mostly, so… let’s see… I still get nightmares from _Fahrenheit 451,_ I love everything Stephen King, and of course, I think J.R.R. Tolkien is a _god._  I’m also a big fan of Agatha Christie and Morris West, but my all-time favorite is _Cyrano de Bergerac”,_ Sarah concluded “As you surely guessed from my tattoo. I first read it when I was nine or ten years old and felt like I had found my lost twin”.

 _Cyrano de Bergerac,_ thought Kermit. How fitting. The romantic, cocky, big-nosed cadet from Gascony, swordsman, poet, philosopher, arrogant, proud, moon-lover… Hopelessly in love with his beautiful cousin, never daring to tell her because of his looks, helping instead the blond, devastatingly handsome dunce she was in love with; Cyrano would write her passionate letters and whisper his love for her under her balcony, pretending to be Christian the Stunning. For what he had in beauty, he lacked in brains.   _Aw, Sweetcakes, who did this to you?_ Kermit thought. He decided he’d try and find out.

“My turn”, he said. “How many boyfriends have you had?”

 _Shit, Griffin, what_ was _that?_   He cringed at his own bluntness. _Your questioning skills are going rusty!_

“Boy, don’t you sound like an insecure jock” Sarah replied ironically. “Not enough to make an impressive number, I am sure… just two”.

“Come on, Sweetcakes. You have got to be kidding me”.

“I’m not. Just two. One… I loved dearly. It was a long time ago. One of my teachers” she giggled, and added: “yes, I do have a thing for older men”.

Kermit bowed, smiling to himself.

“And what happened?”

“I would have chosen him over anything in the world. And… he didn’t want me. Or rather, he did, but not enough to risk it”. Sarah closed her eyes.

“How old were you?

“Twenty”.

“And this—” _asshole_ was the word Kermit wanted to use, but he stopped himself. “And this guy, how old was he?”

“Forty”, Sarah mumbled.

“What? And he couldn’t risk having you? Forgive me, but he’s an idiot, Sweetcakes” Kermit fumed.

Sarah laughed in agreement.

“I know”.

“And what about the other one?

“The other one…” Sarah sighed, “I’d rather forget about him”.                                                                          

“Oh?”

“Biggest mistake of my life”, she replied with a tone that broke to no argument, “I think I got hit over the head with a brick when I decided to date him. There is no other explanation, but… it was a while ago, so I’ve put it past me”.

“Did he mistreat you?” Kermit asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

“Calm down, Sir Galahad”, Sarah laughed and Kermit stared, as that was what he called himself when his chivalry got him in trouble. “No, he didn’t… Well, not in the classic sense of the word, at least. He was a very damaged person and he decided to share the damage rather than fix it. I tried to help… but you can’t help those who don’t wish to be helped. Anyway, old story! Let’s talk about you. How many?”

“Well, that’s a tricky question”, Kermit answered, quickly concealing his eyes behind his dark glasses. _Thanks a lot, Rykker,_ he thought sulkily, remembering the older mercenary’s previous indiscretion.

“Oh?”

“Well, sometimes I had to pretend I was… shall we say it— in “love” with someone for the sake of a mission— don’t give me that look, I know it’s despicable… but there was nothing I could do. It was either do that or get killed”.

Sarah bit her lip. Ever since Rykker had mentioned Kermit’s previous involvement with unsavory characters, her mind had presented her with the image of Kermit running amok with a handful of Bond Girls, and her feelings of inadequacy had increased tenfold. Never in a million light years could she be expected to compete with salacious foreign spies with sultry voices and bodies to die for, now, could she?

_Of course not._

“All right, then, let’s forget those”, Sarah said, not without effort. “What about the ones you actually cared about?”

“Then… I’d have to say… four. Before you, that is.”

Sarah looked at him fractionally as if gauging the sincerity of his words. She seemed satisfied with what she saw and nodded, silently encouraging Kermit to continue.

“I’ve been married twice” Kermit began, while a part of him idly wondered what on Earth had possessed him to start blurting out things that were best left forgotten: _I suppose this is what trust is really about_ , he thought and went on: “With Jenna —that’s my first wife—, well, I know it sounds lame, but we were way too young and we had absolutely no idea of what the hell we were doing. I guess I just wanted a family of my own… And Jenna… well, she wanted someone who wasn’t there to begin with”.

»She sent me a Dear John letter six months into our marriage. It was addressed posthumously, as she’d thought I had been killed in Afghanistan along with Blaisdell. I think she mainly wrote it to give herself some peace of mind. So, she went with this other guy and later on I found out she’d had my baby”.

Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise.

“You have a child?” she exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah, didn’t I tell you?”

“No!”

“Rats, I thought I had. Well, yes, I do have a son. Apparently, I managed to get Jenna pregnant before running off to Afghanistan to hunt down heathens with Paul. She didn’t know herself either, until well after she met my replacement and wrote the letter ditching her supposedly demised husband for someone with a pulse and thick, wavy hair”.

Seeing as Kermit had both a steady pulse and a mane of thick, wavy, salt-and-pepper hair, Sarah found his comment more ironic than bitter.

“So, after she went on her merry way, Jenna noticed her belly beginning to swell. It was too late and too illegal back then to get rid of the nuisance, so she had the kid and gave him up for adoption. She didn’t want anything that reminded her of me”, he finished, managing to keep most of the bitterness out of his voice.

Sarah covered her mouth with her hands in an involuntary gesture.

“Well, I’ll be damned”, she blurted out.

“Oh yeah, harsh, wasn’t it”, Kermit said off-handedly, but fooling no one. “Like I said, we were pretty much teenagers ourselves. It is a lame excuse, but there you have it. So, one day I showed up in Jenna’s doorstep. She nearly had a stroke at the sight of yours truly coming back from the dead, that I can tell you”, he grinned evilly. “It scared the pants off her to the point of actually telling me about the kid without me having to ask: I tracked him down, learned he was healthy, happy and well-cared for, and decided to leave him be. Pretty much like Paul did with you, and under the same reasoning. My life was too much of a mess back then; it would have been unfair to drag a child into it”.

“Did you ever see him again?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, yeah, quite a few times, actually. He’s in the Air force now; his name is Major Jim Hellstrom. Actually, Caine managed to extricate us both out of a tight spot in a facility in Vermont where we were being held captive. Caine realized at once what we were to each other. Besides him, you’re the only one who knows of our relationship. Not even Paul knows”.

“Thank you” Sarah said, truly touched.

“So that takes care of Wife Number One” Kermit concluded brightly. “As for Wife Number Two, the story is even shorter. I was on leave of absence after getting injured. Paul had me shipped off to Hawaii to ‘get some rest’, and I met Laurie at a local Tiki shop, fell madly in love with her and married her before I could get cold feet. We lived happily ever after… for a year. Right up until she got killed”.

Sarah’s hands went up to cover her mouth again of their own volition.

“I really thought I had found what I was looking for”, Kermit said, his eyes fixed on the floor. “So much that I even gave a serious thought to the idea of leaving the Agency for good and settle down with Laurie, weaving hats or whatever took my fancy”.

Sarah tried to picture Kermit weaving straw hats to sell them at a flea market and failed dismally.

“But, Destiny had other plans, it seemed”, Kermit went on bitterly. “A few months before meeting Laurie, I had helped the Agency bring down a couple of hunter planes in Bosnia by hacking into their system. I didn’t escape unscathed; actually, I almost got my foot blown off. That’s the injury that got me sent to Hawaii in the first place. Anyway, one of the pilots who died in that ‘accident’ had a brother with ties to the Bratva, and well… let’s just say they repaid in kind. They dropped a handmade bomb through our living room window, and the explosion blasted off half the street. I wasn’t there by mere chance. I had gone out to buy some pistachio ice-cream Laurie had insisted she wanted all morning”.

Something in the way Kermit said that last part put Sarah on her guard.

“She was pregnant, wasn’t she?” she asked in a whisper.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh, God, Kermit—” Sarah began, horrified, but stopped in midsentence. _Now_ she understood why he fussed around her as if fearing she’d break at the slightest touch.

“That’s OK, Sweetcakes, I’m a big boy, I can handle it” Kermit replied.

“Can you, really?”

“No, but I figured if I kept telling myself that I’d end up believing it” Kermit answered with the ghost of a smile.

“And… did it work?”

“No… Which brings us to Contestant Number Three… Miss Emma Thorn”.

 

Sarah tensed almost unwillingly. She had heard several members of the 101st mention Emma, and although she hadn’t come off well at all, Sarah had been left with the impression that Kermit had been head-over-heels about her.

“Emma Thorn. We met at a software convention. I was smitten, I’m afraid. She is a very beautiful woman, albeit in a very _La femme Nikita_ sort of way. I just— Well, I guess I couldn’t believe my luck. Women like that usually don’t look twice at guys like me… Unless they have ulterior motives, something I shouldn’t have forgotten. As it turns out, there was more to Emma than met the eye. She was the second-in-command to a guy named Latrodect, the leader of the Black Widow sect”.

“Fitting” Sarah said. Kermit nodded.

“Latrodect presented himself as an entrepreneur and philanthropist, but in truth he wanted Chinatown for himself. He poisoned Caine in order to force him to poison the community in turn, so Latrodect could buy the depreciated property after the massacre, but Caine wouldn’t budge.

»He saw Emma for what she really was immediately, and tried to warn me. I—I got a bit shirty with him. I told him he was every bit as paranoid as the CIA agents I used to work with. And… he was right. The woman attacked me with a poisoned needle. I saw her reflection on the goddamned teapot if you can believe it… So I snapped into mercenary mode, knocked her out and went off to bust the bad guy. She did free me from a poisoned net in that old warehouse, afterwards” Kermit added reflectively. “I like to think I wasn’t completely meaningless to her”.

Sarah smiled.

“And… After Emma… I harbored a not-so-small crush on my then Captain… Karen Simms… but nothing came out of that. So… what do you say?” Kermit went on. “Can I give 007 a run for his money or what?”

“You can say that again! You should write a book sometime!”

“Oh, Sweetcakes, that wouldn’t be wise at all”.

“Yeah… I guess so. It does make my life seem dull and boring, that I can tell you”.

“Oh, but I haven’t got to the best part yet!” Kermit exclaimed brightly.

“Which is?”

“You!” Kermit touched the tip of her nose lightly with his index finger and grinned broadly when he saw Sarah blush crimson.

“Come on, Kermit, get serious”, she murmured.

“I am dead serious, my lovely Valkyrie”, he retorted. “Corny as it sounds, you’re like a dream come true. I’ve been telling you some pretty nasty things for the past two hours or so and, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you haven’t so much as flinched at what I’ve done. That’s something I never _ever_ dared to hope I’d get.

»Jenna never cared much about my life, and I shared so little of that side of me with Laurie that sometimes I wonder if maybe that got her killed. She didn’t know exactly what she had married into. But you— you’ve seen first- hand some of the things I do, and you’ve heard about others, and you didn’t run away in horror. That’s— priceless to me”.

  Sarah realized with a jolt that they both shared the same insecurities. Kermit feared getting rejected for who he had been; Sarah thought she’d get rejected for who she still was. Birds of a feather, indeed.

“Well, I declare Session Two of Shambhala Bonding officially over” Kermit quipped cheerfully. “On my part, at least”.

“I have no such secrets”, Sarah said quickly.

Kermit knew that was correct in essence, but she wasn’t getting off that easily.

“Bollocks, Sweetcakes. I want to know why you think so low of yourself, why do you see yourself as the Ugly Duckling”.

“Did you know in the real story the swans killed the duckling?” she said, not quite sidetracking from the subject.

“What?”

 “Yeah… Hans Christian Andersen altered it to make it suitable for children,  but the popular story told that the Duckling was cast away by the other ducks because he was too ugly and different to be worthy of their company”, her voice sounded as if she knew how that felt like all too well. “So he found the swans. But they didn’t embrace him and called him the most beautiful among them, of course they didn’t… No, they killed him because, even though he looked like a swan, he still acted like a duck”.

 

Kermit looked at her, not finding for the life of him something meaningful to say.

“Well… that’s just it” Sarah went on. “I was never enough, not for her _…_ not for anybody. No matter how hard I tried, I could never achieve perfection. And perfection is a condition _sine qua non_ to be loved in my side of the pond. I mean, not even my ‘real’ family thought I was good enough, did they?”

“Paul didn’t know you existed” Kermit defended his mentor.

“I didn’t mean Paul. I meant— My mother’s side. I wasn’t a pureblood, so they gave me away”.

“That was supremely idiotic of them”, Kermit declared. “But I see your point”.

“So… that’s just it… I’ve always feared I’ll get tossed aside if I’m not the absolute best. And I am not. No one can be, and I know that in here”, Sarah pointed at her own head, “but not in here”, and she signaled at her heart.

“Well, get this into your pretty head and your big heart” Kermit declared, puffing up pompously: “You’re the very best for yourself, and more importantly, you’re the absolute best _for me”._

As he had hoped, his last statement made Sarah laugh. He circled his arm around her shoulders and held her to him. He was about to make his move – after all, there was no better time than the present -, when Lucas opened the double door, crossed the room to draw the heavy drapes and let in the first rays of sunshine, apparently unruffled by the fact that both Kermit and Sarah were joined at the shoulders still wearing their PJs.

“Breakfast is served, Sir and Madam” Lucas announced ceremoniously with a deep bow which made his head almost hit the parquet floor.

Sarah and Kermit turned to look at each other and burst into uncontrollable giggles.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Annie Blaisdell had managed to turn Rykker’s lonesome mausoleum into a cozy home indeed. She had filled the house with flowers and cheerful songbirds, and under her direction, delicious aromas came out from the kitchen all day long. She seemed to believe everyone around her was underfed and she was keen on fattening up her dear surrogate sons to the point of bursting. Paul didn’t escape his fate either, and Rykker eyed the family’s dynamics with a wistful look. Sarah, Carolyn and Kelly had grown fond of each other, and spent quite a lot of time chatting together. Annie had managed to make Sarah feel like one more member of the motley Blaisdell party and had encouraged Kermit to pursue his relationship with Sarah when the ex-mercenary had sought Annie’s advice on the matter.

Rykker Manor offered a variety of distractions, which was a blessing as they were cooped up inside the vast property, and tempers tended to run high at times. It had taken Sarah less than twenty-four hours since their arrival to find the pack of English Foxhounds that Rykker kept in a specially accommodated barn, and she was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. It was really something to watch her walking around the snowed-in grounds closely followed by thirty furry adorers emitting merry howls at her, and wagging their tails contentedly. It hadn’t taken her long to tell each and every one of the thirty dogs apart by name, and even Rykker was amazed at how his dogs had reacted to Sarah.

“They’re hunt dogs, they’re anything but friendly, and look at them!” he exclaimed, watching the dogs pushing at each other to get a turn on Sarah’s lap.

Caine had also managed to charm the animals into cautious enthrallment, but all in all, it was different where Sarah was concerned; the dogs had embraced her like one of their own.

“How do you do that?” Kelly asked enviously after nearly getting her hand bitten off trying to pet the pack leader, a robust tricolor Foxhound named Rainer, who was in turn trying with all his might to lick Sarah’s face.

“I don’t know” Sarah replied honestly, because she didn’t. “Dad says I’ve got dog blood”.

“That’s so cool!” Kelly replied. “I wish I could do that. Well, we did get to go horseback riding last week. Have you seen the horses yet?”

“No, not yet” Sarah said.

“They’re so beautiful! I’d show you, but they’ve got them locked up for a check-up, or so Williams told me”.

“Oh, are they sick?”

“No, I don’t think so… Just some big event coming up”.

 

The big event turned out to be a Foxhunting that was to be held at Rykker’s the following weekend.

“It’s top o’ the Season” Rykker said proudly. “And of course, you’re all required to attend”.

“I’m not going” Sarah said immediately.

“My dear child, do not be absurd” Rykker replied dismissively. “It is important”.

“I don’t care. I don’t kill animals for sport” was Sarah’s stern reply. “I thought Foxhunting was banned a few years ago, anyway?”

The look on her face said plainly that she would have loved to sign the ban and shove it up a Hunt Master’s ass. Kermit looked at her with pride in his eyes.

“I’m with you in that one, Sweetcakes”, he said.

 _“I’m with you in that one, Sweetcakes”_ Rykker mimicked Kermit mockingly, “This, from a man who blew up entire villages without a qualm”.

“Under _your_ orders, Rykker. And what do you know about my inner qualms, anyway?” Kermit replied smoothly.

Rykker smiled in a rather tense way.

“Just take your balls out of the lass’s purse, will you?”

Sarah closed her eyes in anticipation, certain that Kermit would crack the man’s head open. Peter’s train of thought apparently went along the same lines because he quickly stood up, ready to restrain Kermit if needed be.

“Please, feel free to follow your own advice” Kermit said pleasantly. “At least _I_ know the whereabouts of my balls”.

Sarah had to fight with all her might the need to burst into laughter. Peter sat back down slowly, looking incredulously at Kermit. Paul was red in the face with the effort of holding back a guffaw. Steadman didn’t bother with manners, and raised his glass of scotch in toast.

“Cheers!” he said amusedly.

Kermit answered the toast and Rykker was left with no other choice but to retreat so he could keep some of his dignity intact.

“My apologies, young lady”, he said in clipped tones. “That was uncalled for”.

“Indeed it was”, Sarah replied.

“Is the pissing contest over?” Katya interjected from a corner; she sounded angry and eyed Sarah disgustedly. Sarah frowned, wondering what that was all about.

“As for the Foxhunting” Rykker went on, still netted, “you are correct, the actual killing of the fox was banned a few years ago. We practice what we call drag hunting, which is merely allowing the pack to track down artificial scents while we follow them riding the field hunters— Horses, that is. We just keep most of the rituals and dress codes for the sake of tradition”.

Sarah nodded again.

“Why are we ‘required’ to attend?” she asked.

“Because you’re guests in the Host Manor”, Rykker replied coolly. “It would strike other Hunt Masters as odd and quite rude if you didn’t attend”.

Sarah arched an eyebrow, certain that the British stiff penchant for social conventionalisms was but a smokescreen. She could tell Caine felt pretty much the same just by the way he was looking at Rykker. She shook her head anxiously. A very bad feeling about the whole business was creeping up her spine.

“You shall be supplied with the proper riding attire” Rykker offered pompously. “I do hope you will find everything to your liking. Oh, and there is to be a Ball after the drag hunt. The dress code is strictly formal. I suggest you go shopping”.

 

And without further ado he strode out of the sitting room.

 

~*~

Sarah woke up early and, after taking a quick shower, she eased into the riding attire that Williams, Rykker’s Kennelman, had supplied her with. The pique was black in color, and the breeches were of a creamy ivory tone, just like amateur riding suits should be, but she had been given a red-colored hunt collar, a great distinction Sarah knew she wasn’t entitled to, not being a professional hunter. She rather thought it was Rykker’s way of apologizing. She also noticed her hunt cap ribbons were down, as hunt masters wore them, and that her English dress boots had patent black leather tops, something amateurs weren’t allowed to wear at Hunts.

“Remorse much?” Sarah said out loud. “Or… he’s just a pathetic passive-aggressive asshole who thinks the suit makes the man. We’ll just see about that”.

Sarah left her room and ran into Carolyn and Kelly on her way downstairs.

“How come you get to wear a scarf?” Kelly complained, looking disgustedly at her plain outfit. Sarah shrugged, not really wishing to explain what the collar meant.

“Want some cheese with that whine?” Carolyn supplied acidly, trying unsuccessfully to put her cap on.

“Here, let me help you”, Sarah offered, tying the ribbons up.

“Thanks” Lyn replied. “I don’t know why we’re doing this… I’m such an appalling rider I’m sure I’ll embarrass myself”.

“No one will pay any attention to you”, Sarah said soothingly. “They’ll run off after the dogs and won’t mind us. You can go with me, I’ll help you out”.

“Really? Thanks, that’s very nice!” Lyn said, with the first genuine smile Sarah had seen on her face.

“So… Is that another hidden talent, Sweetcakes?” Kermit’s voice came from Sarah’s left. He was pulling at the neck of his plain black pique, clearly annoyed at having to don such attire.

“Uh?”

“You know how to ride?”

Sarah bit her lip in that nervous gesture of hers.

“Um— I do, just a bit, yes. I learned when I was little” Sarah replied.

“I’m beginning to distrust your self-lessening statements” Kermit pointed out. “For all I know you were part of the Olympic equestrian team”.

Sarah laughed out loud.

“No, come on! Of course I wasn’t. I can handle myself all right around a horse, that’s all”.

“Mmm” Kermit grunted noncommittally.

He followed the Blaisdell sisters outside, where quite a bunch of people on horseback were already waiting and buzzing excitedly.

“Ah, there you are, finally!” Rykker exclaimed, dressed in full Hunt Master Attire: scarlet pique with four brass buttons, ivory-colored breeches, black boots with brown leather tops, and hunting cap with the ribbons down. “We’re all set. Shall I lead you to the horses, then?”

 

They reached the stables, and Rykker bid them to pick their horses.  Kelly and Carolyn picked the horses they had ridden previously, and Kermit, who was thoroughly uninterested by the procedures, managed to climb onto a chestnut-colored Arabian mare without falling on his head. Sarah’s eye was caught by a superb black Friesian that was walking nervously around its lumberyard. She walked towards it resolutely.

“Sarah, my lass, I would not advise you to pick _High Admiral…_ We have not tamed him yet…”

And true enough, the horse was neighing fretfully and he didn’t even have a saddle, but Sarah didn’t falter.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rykker. I have a thing with animals”.

Kermit watched tensely from his mount as Sarah stepped into the lumberyard and walked slowly until she reached the animal. He considered going after her, fearing the stallion would quick her forcefully out of the lumberyard, but he could barely manage to stay atop his own stupid horse as it was. He noticed the buzzing around them diminishing as the hunters turned to watch what Sarah was doing.

“Hello, _High Admiral”_ she said, “I’m Sarah”. She extended her left hand and let the horse sniff at it. Slowly, his powerful muscles relaxed and he bowed his head.

“Will you let me ride you?” she continued. The horse whinnied again and snorted, as if agreeing, so Sarah asked for a saddle and put it on the horse herself.

“Well, Sarah, I am afraid I will have to fire my caretaker!” Rykker said, impressed against his will.  The guests all laughed at the wits of their host.

 

Soon enough, the scents were laid; the hounds, incited, and they were all following the Kennelman’s horn through the fields and woods. They split into groups and Sarah, true to her word, waited for Carolyn, who clutched her horse frantically with both her legs, as if fearing it was a space rocket that might catapult her into outer space.

“Just relax” Sarah told her. “Don’t pull on the reins, just… move them slightly. The horse will know what to do”.

“I think the horse knows I’m hopeless” Lyn replied. “I’m sure he’s also plotting how to tumble me to the ground”.

Sarah smiled and shook her head.

“Animals don’t do that”, she stated, and Kermit smiled inevitably. He found Sarah’s love for animals rather engaging. He noticed she wasn’t carrying the fowling rifle Rykker had insisted on allotting them, arguing they could run into packs of wolves.

“Sweetcakes, where’s your rifle?” he asked.

“I don’t kill animals”, Sarah replied firmly. “Not even packs of wolves. Besides, I am a lousy shot”.

“Well, we have to fix that last part, at least”, Kermit said. “Given the circumstances, I think you should learn how to fire a weapon”.

“Are you appointing yourself as my teacher?” Sarah asked.

“I’d be honored”.

Sarah laughed.

“Let’s see if he still says that after I’ve managed to blow off his leg, or something”, Sarah told Lyn, who chuckled.

“Seriously, though, I think it’s a great idea” Lyn said. “Dad taught us how to fire a weapon just in case we needed it, and you never know when it might come in handy”.

“We’ll see” Sarah said, as she always did when she wished to discuss the matter no further.

They rode amiably for a while, Kermit and Lyn steadily increasing their confidence in their riding skills. Sarah and _High Admiral_ led the way with a joyful gait that plainly showed the magnificent horse was thrilled to be in the open field.

“There’s Dad over there” Lyn said and waved hi. “Hey, Dad! Dad!”

Paul led his horse towards them, and greeted them with a smile that did little to hide his awkwardness.

“I feel nothing short of ridiculous wearing this”, he said.

“Hear, hear” Kermit echoed.

“I wonder what privileges Caine has to have been spared this indignity” Paul grumbled, and they all turned to look at Caine, who rode his horse bareback and wore his usual clothes.

“He’s just…Caine” Kermit said with an amused smile. “Where’s Peter?”

“He’s probably gone off to chase a pray of his own” Paul replied cheekily and they broke in laughter.

“ _Daad!”_ Lyn exclaimed, “don’t be so mean!”

That made them laugh even harder.

“Lyn” Paul said. “Why don’t you ride a moment with your old man so you can update me on your life? Todd said you were planning on moving to Boston”.

Lyn looked at her father in confusion. When had her husband said anything of the sort? Sudden understanding downed on her and she said:

“Well, sure, Dad, let’s go for a ride… Just bear with me, I’ve only just gotten the hang of it”.

Paul smiled, winked at Kermit and signaled to his daughter she should follow him. The two of them led their horses away slowly and Lyn’s voice carried all the way to where Kermit and Sarah still stood:

“Matchmaker much, Daddy? Years have mellowed you!”

Paul’s merry laughter was the last thing Sarah and Kermit heard before they disappeared down a hill.

“They have no shame” Kermit said a little embarrassed.

“To tell you the truth, I find it rather sweet” Sarah said. “My ‘other’ Dad would be climbing up the walls, horse and all, and Mother would be pushing them up”.

Kermit laughed at the mental image.

“By the way, did you ever tell them?”

“Nope” Sarah answered ruefully. “I didn’t find the time to do it during the action-packed days that followed the revelation”.

“True, that” Kermit said. What he really wanted to ask was whether she’d mentioned him to her ‘other’ parents, but couldn’t find it in him to do it.

“They’ll find out eventually” Sarah said. “I just don’t want them hopping into the first plane out of Switzerland to try and find out what am I doing in London”.

“Oh, I see”.

“Yeah, I can’t tell them that I’ve found Paul and leave out the rest of it. And they’ll just _flip out,_ I know it _._ So, the farther they stay, the better for all implied. And they’ll be safer, as well”.

Kermit nodded in understanding.

“This will be over s—” he began, when a shot was heard. Kermit watched Sarah go taut, her brow furrowed in anger.

“I thought they weren’t supposed to kill the fox?” she said, her eyes steely; Kermit had noticed that whenever a strong emotion was involved, her eyes lost all trace of blue and became an exact replica of Paul’s.

“Maybe they got attacked by wolves?” Kermit supplied.

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a string of gunfire. It sounded much closer now and the horses neighed restlessly. Sarah ran a hand through _High Admiral’s_ mane trying to soothe him, to no avail. The stallion, who wasn’t even tamed to begin with, was in the brink of hysterics, in Kermit’s opinion. He watched Sarah lean her head to the side in that gesture that reminded him of Bailey, and then she nudged _High Admiral’s_ flanks slightly with her boots to step closer to Kermit.  He had half a mind to ask her what was she doing, but she didn’t give him time to say the words. Sarah’s left hand shot towards the reins with which Kermit was supposed to steer his also fretting horse, and he watched dazedly how she quickly rolled them around her wrist.  She dug her heels on _High Admiral,_ who whinnied in protest and broke into a run, dragging Kermit and his horse on tow,  just as he felt a buzzing something that flew perilously close to his head.

“Go, _High Admiral,_ go, go, GO!” Sarah said urgently as they galloped madly, with Sarah handling both horses single-handedly. Kermit could see her left hand going white and then purple from lack of circulation. The horses obeyed her without a doubt, allowing Kermit to look back and catch a glance of a hooded figure holding a professional hunter. Sarah steered them to the left without warning, nearly tumbling him off his horse. He all but managed to stay on it, and soon enough they’d reached the back of a hill, where she bid both animals to stop, turning to look at him.

“Are you—” he began, but he never got to finish the sentence. He was violently thrown off his saddle when _High Admiral_ stood on his hind legs in fright as three more shots were heard, tumbling them all to the ground. Completely on instinct, Kermit tried to shield Sarah with his body, but she shook him off her just as a bullet blasted a hole through a tree, piercing into the exact spot his head had been a second ago.

Kermit extricated his Desert Eagle from his pique and raised his hand to shoot without aiming, keeping his head down and forcing Sarah to the ground with his free hand. He fired a load and waited for retaliation, but apparently the mysterious hooded shooter had scampered.  

“Stay down, Sweetcakes”, he instructed her as he crawled around searching for his shades, which had flown away during the pandemonium. He found them a couple of meters away, put them on and inched his way back to Sarah.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yeah… You?”

“Oh, yeah… Thanks to you! That was some fast reaction you had!”

“It was automatic” Sarah said, shaking all over now that the adrenaline rush was over; “If I’d stopped to think— we’d be—”

“Shh, we aren’t, and that’s what matters”

Kermit stood up and took her hand to help her off the ground. She grimaced in pain. Kermit rolled up her sleeve to reveal the beginning of what would become a rather spectacular bruise around her left wrist.

“Is it broken?” he asked, inwardly thankful she hadn’t got it ripped off when they fell off their horses.

Sarah moved her hand cautiously and grimaced.

“I think so” she said, breathless.

A rumble of hoof beats could be heard up-hill, approaching them rapidly. Sarah rubbed her injured hand absent-mindedly and Kermit flexed his body slightly in a defensive stance, his gun at the ready.

“Oi! What the devil happened?” Rykker voiced from the lead of the hunt pack. Kermit strode directly towards him and dragged him off his horse by sheer manhandling.  Rykker found himself pinned against the nearest tree with the neck-choke Paul had been famous for and felt the barrel of Kermit’s Desert Eagle under his trembling chin.

“We were attacked, you blithering idiot” Kermit snarled dangerously. “That’s what happened. Now, are you going to tell me just who the hell did you put up to this, or do you want to scrape your brains off of the ground?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead!

Kermit was beside himself with fury. The image of Sarah’s bruised, rope-burned wrist pulsed and glowed in his mind like an angry boil, and he kept involuntarily replaying dreadful scenarios inside his head, all of them predictably featuring Sarah’s demise. Given his past history, it was only to be expected.

 _“Well?_ ” he roared. “I’m waiting!”

Rykker, who was steadily turning blue in the face tried to speak, but only managed a few gasping sounds.

“Kermit” Sarah spoke, putting her uninjured hand on his shoulder. “Kermit, let go of him”.

Her voice pierced through his rage-hazed brain and he loosened his grip on Rykker’s neck fractionally as to allow him to draw a few desperate breaths of air.

“You’re— you’re— mad—” Rykker choked out.

“You’re stating the obvious” Kermit spat. “ _Do not_ try my patience. You know I have no qualms when it comes to snapping necks, especially when said neck belongs to a traitor”.

Sarah squeezed his shoulder again. She was having a hard time reconciling this cold, murderous brutality with the usually chivalrous guy who called her Sweetcakes and quipped out witticisms with a wolfish smile.

 _Well, he_ was _a mercenary, you nitwit,_ she told herself. _What, did you think it had been in a movie, or something?_ Sarah guessed she just haven’t given the thought due consideration. The “I-killed-people-for-a-living” thing was as part of Kermit as his green glasses or his white forelock. She had just went along with it without pausing to ponder that he indeed had taken people’s lives and that he needed very specific personality traits to do so. _You sure know how to pick them, sweetie,_ she scolded herself.  _You’ve succeeded on picking a guy_ exactly _like your real father without even knowing him. You’re a psychoanalyst’s wet dream._

 _“For crying out loud, will you_ focus?” she thought back at herself.

“Kermit” she said for the third time. “Please let go of him”.

Kermit slowly turned to look at her, nodded in assent and finally released him. Rykker fought for air, coughing and sputtering, and the rest of the hunt party, that up until then had remained frozen upon their horses watching the scene, began to dismount, murmuring excitedly. They all kept a healthy distance from Kermit and his Desert Eagle.

 _Wimps,_ he thought when he noticed.

“You’re insane, Griffin” Rykker exhaled hoarsely. “I had you flown up here to _protect_ you, not to have you killed. Whilst I admire your distrusting nature, please do me the courtesy of not doubting my honor in my own house”.

Perhaps Rykker was hoping to fluster Kermit into apologizing, but he did nothing of the sort.

“You might want to remember the Dragonswing has been betrayed twice already. And in both occasions I came up with great personal losses. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t take you for granted”.

Rykker nodded almost imperceptibly. He had actually forgotten for a minute that the aforementioned acts of sedition had resulted first in Griffin Senior’s death, and secondly in Kermit’s own captivity and torture in a V-C camp. If one added to that that he’d lost his second wife and unborn child to Bratva retaliation, one could hardly blame the man for reacting the way he had.

“You’re right” Rykker said diffidently. “I— it slipped my mind. I’m sorry”.

Kermit nodded, in silent acceptance of Rykker’s apology.

“I still want to know what happened” he insisted gravelly.

“Well, don’t we all?” Rykker said.

Caine appeared out of nowhere and bowed silently, sliding between the two men as if to prevent further harm.

“This… was Atherton’s doing”, he offered simply.

“ _Yes_ , Caine”, Kermit snapped, “we gathered _that_ much. What we want to know is how he managed to infiltrate Rykker’s infamous security”.

“I—”

“—Do not know”, finished Kermit and Caine in unison. Peter, who had just arrived, tried in vain to stifle a snort of laughter, and Kermit gifted him with a murderous look, plain even from behind his dark glasses.

“Where is your physician, Rykker?” he barked. “I think Sarah broke her wrist”.

Rykker looked nonplussed and Caine walked resolutely towards Sarah.

“Please”, he said, “allow me”.

He engulfed Sarah’s injured hand in both his own and cradled her wrist in a warm cocoon. The pain was gone immediately and even the bruising subsided little.

“Thank you, Caine”, Sarah murmured.

Caine bowed, and the rest of the party merely stared as if they didn’t know what to make of them.

“Yes, well”, said Rykker, trying to muster as much dignity as he could, “seeing as the Hunt is officially ruined, I would suggest we adjourn to the Manor. After all, we must get ready for the Ball, must we not?” he tried to laugh, but all he managed was a dry bark.

The Hunters returned to the path slowly. Rykker was left standing there, eyeing Kermit thoughtfully.

“Listen here, old chap… I am not one to justify myself, not _ever,_ you know it…”

Kermit snorted derisively.

“But…” Rykker continued, “I’d never dream of attacking you or Paul’s kin. I hope you can believe that. On my honor”, and he held out his hand.  Kermit examined it warily, and then his eyes traveled to Sarah, who was standing farther away, petting _High Admiral_ and pretending she wasn’t listening to the exchange.

“On your honor”, Kermit said at last, clasping Rykker’s outstretched hand. “And may your honor shrivel and fall off if you’re lying”.

 

 

~*~

 

Sarah heard a knock on her bedroom door and sighed in exasperation. She had overslept and now she was running late, something that seldom happened to her.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s me, Sweetcakes” Kermit replied from the other side.

 _Great._ Sarah opened the door to let him in. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a gray vest and tie, forsaking his usual old-fashioned navy-blue suit, surely as a concession to honor his truce with Rykker. This suited Sarah just fine, because he looked absolutely breathtaking in her opinion.

“Wow” she managed to say, her mouth suddenly dry.

“What?”

“You look— _fabulous”_ she breathed, her face as red as a brick.

Kermit bowed gallantly, inwardly both dumbfounded and moved: he couldn’t in all honesty remember the last time he’d elicited such a reaction from a woman, and it did wonders for his morale.

“So do you”, he replied, kissing her cheek.

Sarah, who had only one shoe on and was having her worst hair day in decades, gave him a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the first lie you’re taught at Mercenary Academy” she replied acidly. She wobbled back to the mirror to finish getting ready and frowned at her own image in annoyance.

“I’m not cut out for this” she grouched, looking at herself from every angle and mentally noting all the things she would have liked to change about her appearance. “I wish we had been told beforehand we’d be rubbing elbows with British aristocracy—” she bit her lip and crammed a handful of hairpins on her head in a futile attempt to hold her hair up.  “Oh, screw it”, she said at last. “I’m still going to look out of place, so what’s the point?”

She released her hair, which tumbled down in a shiny cascade. She braided it quickly, twisted it up and tied it into a knot in the nape of her neck, out of her way. 

“There” she growled. “There’s that taken care of. Now, where the fuck is my other shoe?”

She hobbled around the room, balancing precariously over one high heel in search for its partner, all the time muttering mutinously to herself. Kermit looked at her in surprise. He’d never seen her like that before.

“Out of place?” he said. “What do you mean?

“Well, I mean that, exactly. I’m not graceful or elegant… I can’t walk on high heels, I trip over my own feet, I have a loud voice and I gesticulate a lot. I’m just not—”

“What’s wrong, Sweetcakes?” Kermit asked, putting his hands on her shoulders to stop her. “That’s not what’s bugging you. Well, it is, but there’s something else”.

 _Damn Caine and his Bonding,_ Sarah thought as she sighed in defeat.

“You’re right”, she admitted. “It’s just that I still feel something’s about to happen. I thought it’d go away after what happened during the hunt, but, if anything, it’s getting worse”.

Kermit’s eyes were drawn to the dramatic bruise that the reins had left on Sarah’s left wrist when she had pretty much saved his mercenary butt and his stomach clenched. He took another step closer to her and drew her into his arms.

“It’s going to be alright, Sweetcakes, you know that, don’t you?” he said in a soothing voice.

“No, I don’t” came the stubborn reply from somewhere around his chest.

“Yeah, neither do I” Kermit admitted at last. “But I won’t let anything happen to you”.

“It’s not me I’m worried about” Sarah retorted.

“Don’t, Sweetcakes. Nothing will happen to me either”.

“You’d better keep that promise, Detective” Sarah admonished him sternly. “I might not be around to save your ass next time”.

Kermit laughed and held her more tightly to him.

 _I love you so damn much_ , Kermit thought fervently, and for a minute there he was sure he’d heard Sarah’s voice speaking in unison inside his head: _If only you knew how much I love you._ He stared at her, wondering if she had heard him in turn, when he was interrupted by a loud bang on the door.

“Kermit!” yelled Peter from the other side. “You’d better not be in there entwining Chis with my sister!”

And from farther away they also heard Kelly’s distinctive voice:

“Gosh, will you leave them alone!”

Sarah let out a chortle and Kermit rolled his eyes with a long-suffering expression. _You don’t know how right you are, Pete_ , he thought. He bent to kiss Sarah just because he could do it, and then he pulled his shades out from the inside pocket of his vest, putting them on with a wolfish grin.

“Shall we, Sweetcakes?” he said, offering his arm to Sarah.

“Yeah, let’s”, Sarah replied, entwining her arm with his.              They walked out of her bedroom together and Kermit gifted Peter with a withering look from above the rim of his glasses.

“You’re a real furuncle in the ass, I hope you know that”, he informed Peter, who in turn gave him a cheeky smile. Kelly quickly caught up with them, also fixing Peter with a stern look.

“Sorry about him”, she said. “You know he’s got the mental age of a five year old”.

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed.

“She’s right, you know”, Kermit pointed out as everyone laughed.

 

They entered the Ballroom together and Sarah stopped on her tracks almost without thought, overwhelmed by a sudden jolt of self-consciousness, feeling as out of place as a bull in a porcelain shop. Kermit apparently picked up some of her thoughts, for he drew her closer to him and bent to whisper in her ear:

“Come on, my fierce Valkyrie. It’s time this old mercenary gets to show off the most beautiful swan of this pond”.

Sarah stared at him wordlessly, her face flushed and her eyes a little too bright.

“Come on, you’re forty-five, not a hundred”, she said. Kermit smiled, nodded encouragingly and deftly maneuvered them through the sea of people until they reached the buffet.

“If Blake was here, he’d be stuffing his face already”, Kermit commented amusedly. “He makes it look like we cops don’t make enough money to eat on a daily basis”.

Sarah smiled at him waveringly, wishing the earth would just open up and swallow her. She could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on her, and though she knew it was because of the earlier shooting and subsequent spat, she couldn’t help to feel judged.

“I wish they’d stop ogling at us” she murmured.

“They’re just wondering what are you doing with me after what they saw”.

“Boy, do we belong together!” Sarah exclaimed at his self-deprecation.

“We do” he said, and something in his voice moved Sarah close to tears.

“Want some champagne?” Kermit asked.

“No, not right now, thank you”, she said. Her eyes swept the room in search for familiar faces. There was Carolyn, looking great in a deep-red dress, standing next to Annie, who wore an elegant white gown. Caine was near Paul, who was intent on piling up food on a plate.

“I never get to eat anything at these events” he told Caine. “Something always happens and the freaking buffet bar gets turned over, shot at or blasted off. I thought I’d better have some while I can”.

 _So, Paul feels it too_ , Sarah thought, and she heard Kermit’s reply in her head: _Relax, Sweetcakes. Hey, would you look at that?_

She located quickly the source of Kermit’s hilarity: Peter was following Katya around like a puppy, carrying a plate of _hors d’oeuvres_ and a flute of champagne.

“He’s got a lot of nerve teasing me about you” Kermit told Sarah.

“Yeah, he does. But I mean, look at Katya… she hardly even looks at him”.

“Oh, is he in for a bad fall…”

 

Rykker glided regally among his guests, still wearing his full riding attire, making sure everyone was appropriately waited-on. Riordan and Mulligan circled the room like a couple of somber vultures and Sterling had busied himself on getting thoroughly pissed with expensive bourbon.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miss Blaisdell?” a redhead man also in his ridding suit spoke. His ribbons and scarlet pique indicated he was a Hunt Master, and he had honored the old costume of wearing their riding suits to the after-hunt party. Kelly looked at Sarah as if wondering which Miss Blaisdell had the redheaded Hunt Master meant. Sarah thought no one in her right mind would dare ask her to dance in front of Kermit, not after seeing what he was capable of; so she lifted her eyebrows at Kelly in a gesture that said _“he means you”_ , and Kelly turned to look at the man.

“It would be my pleasure” she replied charmingly and offered her small, white hand to him, who took it and led her towards the dancing floor. Sarah watched her go with a growing sense of uneasiness, sparing a couple of brain cells to wish she had it in her to be as graceful and socially adequate as her pretty, blonde half-sister was.

“So you think I scared the wits off this party of British pansies?” Kermit spoke, sounding actually pleased.

“Nooo!” Sarah replied sarcastically. “Why would they be scared? After all, you only nearly choked their host to death!”

“Well, they can’t say they haven’t been warned” Kermit observed. “But seriously, all jokes aside, I don’t like this”.

“What, that redheaded guy asking Kelly out to dance? Yeah… me neither”.

“It seemed to me like he was trying to see whether he could kill two birds with one stone”.

“I thought I was just being paranoid” Sarah said. “I got the exact same feeling”.

“Great minds think alike” Kermit quipped, keeping his eyes fixed on the dancing couple. “I’m going to check it out. Stay right here, Sweetcakes. I still have to dance under the moonlight with you”.

“I don’t dance” she replied instantly.

“Me neither, so that’s just as well” Kermit told her, bending to kiss her cheek before plunging into the crowd. Sarah’s eyes followed his progress until he was lost from view, and started in surprise when she noticed Peter was standing right beside her. She hadn’t felt him approach.

“Where did Kermit go?” asked Peter, sipping at his flute of champagne. “Did his amphibian senses tingle?”

“You can laugh, but that’s exactly what happened. He’s gone to keep an eye on Kelly”.

“On Kelly? What for?”

“Well, she got asked to dance by this odd guy and—”

“Hey, the jealous brother position’s already taken!”

“That’s not it, you ninny. We just didn’t like the way the guy acted”.

“He’s the redhead in the riding suit, right?”

“Yep, that’s him”.

“Do you know his face looks familiar?” Peter mused. “I just can’t remember from where”.

“That’s _never_ a good thing” Sarah said. “The guy everyone recognizes but no one can place _always_ turns out to be the villain in the movies”.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Sis” Peter began, “this isn’t a mov—”

But he was violently cut off by the sound of gunfire and screaming.

“No, this is worse” Sarah said in anguished tones, already sprinting towards the source of the sound. _I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it_ , the phrase drummed in her mind incessantly. Peter followed her to the dance floor. A crowd of people had already gathered in the middle of the polished parquet and someone was screaming hysterically.

“Oh, my God, he’s dead, HE’S DEAD, someone HELP me!” It was Carolyn, lying half-sprawled next to a motionless man.

“Which way did he go?” Peter asked his sister frantically. Lyn raised a trembling hand to point vaguely at the nearest exit and Peter ran off in that direction, his gun drawn. Sarah elbowed her way through the snooping crowd, speaking calmly but in a carrying voice:

“Make way, please, I’m a doctor”.

The guests moved aside reluctantly to let her pass, and Sarah approached the fallen figure lying face-first on the floor. She held her breath, tense to the point of breaking, as she took in the rapidly expanding pool of blood coming out through a very familiar mane of thick, salt-and-pepper hair.

 _“No, please, no, no, no”._ Sarah seemed incapable of forming a coherent thought. _“This can’t be happening… Oh, but I knew it, I FUCKING knew it, please, let it not be Kermit—_ what _are you doing, check on him already! Please, not Kermit, oh, I knew it—”_

Numbly, she watched Caine practically materializing out of thin air beside the fallen man. He kneeled and turned him over, and Sarah let out an involuntary sob of relief. It wasn’t Kermit, though seen from the back he could have passed as his twin.

No, the injured man was Riordan.

 

Her paralysis finally broken, Sarah stepped forward and pressed her fingers to Riordan’s neck, checking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She turned to look at Caine, who shook his head ruefully as if saying there was nothing he could do either. Sarah sighed and automatically glanced at the clock to note the time of death.

“There’s nothing to be done, he’s gone” she said out loud.

 

The murmur of the aristocratic crowd rose to a persistent, excited buzz, as if the crime that had just been committed was thrilling instead of horrifying. Sarah felt fury building inside of her, but quickly quelled it and moved to tend to Lyn, who had begun to cry.

“Excuse me, sir” Sarah said to a blond man who had crouched over Lyn and blocked Sarah’s way. “Sir, I must ask you to move away, please”.

The man looked at snidely.

“Do you know who I am?”

Sarah gave an exasperated sigh. She hated people who thought their money entitled them to special privileges.

“No, sir, and I don’t give a damn. Please move over”.

The man remained stubbornly bent over Lyn and Sarah began to feel restless.

“I will not say it another time, sir” her tone was clipped now. “MOVE.OVER. _NOW”._

The obstinate individual straightened up majestically, eyed Sarah with disdain, but stepped backwards all the same.

“Thank you” Sarah said. Out of the corner of her eye she observed Caine stepping discretely closer to the blond man. _Now what,_ she thought irritably, and sure enough, the man barely had time to draw a knife from somewhere before Caine broke his arm with a graceful, effortless move. Letting the old Shaolin priest take care of the guy, Sarah turned to Lyn.

“Are you OK, Lyn?”

“I— don’t know— I think I sprained something when he threw himself over me— Oh, God, Sarah, he saved me! The man was pointing the gun at _me!”_

Carolyn was nearly screaming by then; she covered her face with her hands and wailed like a Banshee. Sarah spoke quietly:

“Hey, Lyn, listen to me. I know you’re scared, but you need to calm down, alright?” she put her hands on Lyn’s shoulders, to force her to look up, and continued: “Do as I do. Look at me, look at me! Now, take a deep breath” Sarah inhaled, “come on, just like I did. Wonderful, you’re doing great. One more time” Lyn complied tremulously. “Let it out through your nose. Excellent! Again… deep breath…. Let it out… in again… You’re doing wonderfully”.

Caine crept up behind Lyn, and Sarah wondered idly what had he done with the blond guy with the knife. Caine shrugged as if he’d read her thoughts, rubbed his hands together, pressed them on Lyn’s temples, and just like magic, Lyn calmed down immediately.

“Do you… hurt anywhere?” Caine asked in a comforting voice.

Lyn nodded in assent and pointed at her right leg. Sarah leaned in closer to inspect it and it was then that she noticed Lyn’s dress was a deeper shade of red from the waist down.

 _Shit_ , Sarah thought. She lifted up the hem to better expose the wound, and relaxed marginally. It didn’t seem serious; merely a graze along the thigh, but it was still bleeding profusely. Sarah looked around in search for something to stem the flow with, and grabbed a cloth napkin from the nearest chair.

“If I may… try something first?” Caine asked, putting his hands above Lyn’s wound, but never actually touching it. The blood began to clot at once.

“You’d be the most coveted man in the ER” Sarah said admiringly. Caine shrugged in a modest gesture. Sarah pressed the linen to Lyn’s thigh and smiled at her reassuringly.

“You’ll be fine” Sarah told her.

“Thank you… sister” Lyn replied with a pained smile.

“Sarah! SARAH! _”_ Kermit’s unmistakable deep voice rose urgently above the buzzing of the gawking crowd. He came galloping into Sarah’s visual field, closely followed by Paul, who seemed on the verge of a heart-attack. Rykker was right behind them, forcibly restraining a wild-looking Annie, as Katya did the same with Kelly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine” Sarah voiced as they all approached her. “Lyn’s injured, but she’ll be alright… And Riordan’s dead”.

Kermit skidded into a halt and dropped to his knees next to Sarah, drawing her into a bone-crushing embrace. Sarah barely managed to hug him back without relinquishing her hold on the cloth that covered Lyn’s wound.

“Oh, Sarah— I thought— I thought the worst—” Kermit choked out, his head buried in the warm crook of her shoulder. He sounded close to tears. Sarah caught a glimpse of the fragmented images that flashed through his mind: a suburban house enveloped by flames, a half-charred blue teddy bear lying bereaved on the floor amidst the debris of what was left of a baby nursery… a marble tombstone concealed by ivy.

 _Don’t do this to yourself, Kermit,_ she thought. _Everything’s fine, I swear”._ She conveniently chose to clamp down her own reaction at the first glance of Riordan’s dead body. Kermit tightened his grip on her to the point of it being almost unbearable and kissed her forehead tremulously.

“The goddamned bastard got away” came Peter’s voice from somewhere around their left. “What the hell happened in here?”

“Oh, you know the usual” Kermit answered, still kneeling next to Sarah and holding onto her for dear life. “Lyn got shot, Riordan got killed, the shooter got away, a man pulled out a knife, and your father kicked the stuffing out of him… Same old, same old. I didn’t see anything, though; I was keeping an eye on Kelly…. I’m sure that ginger bastard was a decoy”.

“Where is he?”

“Search me” Kermit answered.

“Man, will we ever attend a party that doesn’t end up this way?” Peter wondered. “You OK, Lyn?”

Lyn nodded.

“Did you get a glimpse of the guy?”

The girl now shook her head ruefully.

“I’m sorry— He was wearing a ski mask”.

“Tell me exactly what happened” Peter said.

“Perhaps we should move this conversation to a more private location?” Rykker suggested acidly, still doing his very best to stop Annie from lunging forward to reach her daughter.

“Perhaps we should take Lyn to the hospital?” Sarah retorted in annoyance, and despite the gravity of the situation, Kermit found himself smiling at her response.

“Oh— Right. We should do that” Rykker said, momentarily nonplussed. “I’ll call an ambulance”.

“You do that. And let go of Annie, she can come if she wants to” Sarah concluded.

Rykker did as instructed, and Annie stepped onward unsteadily without the aid of her cane.

“Lyn!” she exclaimed.

“I’m OK, Mom” Lyn assured her. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Caine took care of it”.

Annie sobbed and reached for Caine’s hand in silent gratitude.

In that moment the distinctive blaring of the British Police sirens could be heard approaching the manor. Peter quickly put away his Beretta, and Kermit sprang to his feet, holding out a hand to Sarah so as to help her stand.

“Peter, help me move Lyn to that settee” Kermit said. They carefully lifted and carried the injured girl to an embroidered settee near a window, followed by Sarah, who still held the cloth pressed against Lyn’s thigh.

  In the meantime, Lucas was handling the guests with the ability of a diplomat: he kept them from rioting when they learned the Police had arrived, and deftly stopped them from sneaking out of the Ball Room, dealing with the arrogance of some without batting an eyelash. Once they all realized they were locked in, Lucas served them drinks to sooth their nerves, passed around tea trays and even found some time to comfort the weeping ladies before the Police made their triumphal entrance to take over. Still, there was something off in his efficient approach at matters, Sarah thought. She couldn’t have put it in words, but there was something eerie in the way Lucas conducted himself around the fallen Riordan, even kneeling beside the corpse for the tiniest amount of time, as if he’d wanted to make sure he was indeed dead. Sarah found that action extremely odd. Out of the corner of her eye she followed Lucas’s progress, watched him look at his usually immaculate white gloves with distaste and take them off as he noticed they were smeared in blood. He then got up and walked towards the exit, but he lost his balance and grabbed onto the mantelpiece for support. Quietly, Sarah went behind him and quietly pocketed something, returning hastily to the group.

  Carolyn was shipped off to the nearest hospital, accompanied by Annie, Caine and Kelly, and escorted by a Police car. Sarah was instructed to remain behind so she could render her testimony; no one seemed to have noticed the previous exchange. Paul, Peter and Kermit identified themselves as Police officers from the other side of the pond, and they offered a detailed account of what had transpired at the Ball.

The guests were finally allowed to leave around three o’clock in the morning, once the Police finished securing the crime scene, bagging and tagging Riordan’s body, collecting the evidence and questioning the witnesses. By the look on their faces, Sarah would have been willing to bet most of the guests wouldn’t be returning to a party hosted by Rykker in a hurry.

“I understand there are many things we need to discuss” Paul observed once they were all alone. “But right now, I suggest we get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us”.

They all nodded in agreement and headed for the stairs without further ado. Kermit circled Sarah’s waist with his arm and walked her to her bedroom, feeling reluctant at the thought of leaving her on her own.

“What a night, eh” he said conversationally.

“You can say that again” Sarah replied, massaging the side of her neck absent-mindedly.

“Poor Riordan”.

“Did you know him?”

“Not very well. We were together in a couple of assignments, but we were both sort of secluded by nature… so we didn’t talk much”.

“Seen from the back he looked just like you” Sarah pointed out.

“Oh yeah” Kermit agreed. “Actually, that was quite useful once or twice”.

“At first, I thought—” Sarah’s voice caught in her throat and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh, Sweetcakes…” Kermit whispered pulling her into his arms, where finally Sarah allowed herself to let go.

“I was so FUCKING scared it was you lying there…” she said through her tears. Kermit held her tight and rocked her consolingly; feeling inevitably elated the tangible evidence of how much he mattered to her.

“I felt just the same” he told her, his voice raw. “All I could see was a dark-haired girl lying next to a pool of blood and—well, my mind quickly added the gory details. Professional deformation, I’m afraid”.

Sarah frowned, as a new thought formed in the back of her mind.

“I think…” she said slowly, “the same thing happened to the shooter”.

“Uh?”

“Yeah! I’m sure he thought it was us” Sarah said. “Just like what happened with Skalany. All he saw was a dark-haired woman and a guy who looked like your twin from the back… and naturally, he assumed he’d found his quarries. Probably Lyn and I look alike from a distance… we do share half our genes, after all— Dear God, she’s the third person I get shot by having them mistaken with me!” she finished, horrified.

“It _wasn’t_ your fault, Sweetcakes” Kermit said emphatically.

“Technically, it was” Sarah retorted. “After all, it’s me they’re after”.

“They want to get at Paul”, Kermit clarified. “They’ll go after anyone connected to him. And Carolyn’s also his daughter”.

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better”.

“I know” Kermit said, taking her into his arms again. “I just—”

Sarah rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, wishing she could stay forever in the safe haven of his embrace. _And why the hell not?_ She thought to herself. _Stop being such a wuss and ask him already!_

“Can you stay?” she blurted out suddenly, without getting around to forming the request in her head. Kermit drew back a little to look at her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“Yes, please… It’s just— I don’t want— I _can’t_ be alone. Not tonight”.

“Of course, Sweetcakes” he acquiesced, feeling overjoyed that she had asked it of him. He opened the bedroom door and motioned Sarah inside, following suit with quiet steps.

“You’ll excuse me, but my goddamned feet are _killing_ me, so I’m going to get rid of these” Sarah said, kicking off her heels and climbing into the bed to put her aching feet up. “Whoever invented high heels deserves to be hanged by his balls in Hell for all eternity”, she declared.

Kermit snorted with laughter.

“How do you know it was a man?” he asked, taking off his jacket and vest, and hanging them carefully on a chair.

“Because no woman in her right mind would invent such a thing” Sarah retorted.

Kermit sat on the settee next to the bed and loosened his tie, as he watched Sarah releasing her hair from the braided bun. Their eyes met and Sarah bit her lip nervously, struck by a sudden if not at all unexpected jolt of shyness.    

  This was “it”, after all, as she abruptly realized. Getting Bonded or whatever in another dimension was all very good, yet Sarah couldn’t help but feel that their relationship, if that’s what it was, had missed a few crucial steps. Steps she sensed they were about to take and the thought couldn’t be more terrifying.

 While engaged in her mental battering, Kermit had divested himself of the rest of his clothing, except for his white cotton-shirt and his boxer shorts, and was arranging the pillows, apparently fully intending to go to sleep.

 “Everything OK,  Sweetcakes?” Kermit asked then, sitting beside her on the bed.

Sarah jolted and tried to look at him, but all she managed was an almost imperceptible nod of assent. She cringed inside. She was all too aware that she must have come across as cold and forbidding, when nothing was farther from the truth. It was just that she was overwhelmed by emotion and she was handling it badly. Maybe it was too much to take in, on top of everything else that had happened, but at the same time, something deep within her felt this was something that it needed to be done.

“Would it help if I told you I feel the same?” Kermit spoke softly.

Sarah’s stomach did a triple somersault. She had forgotten now they could read each other’s minds. She blinked away a couple of treacherous tears and forced herself to look up.

“Not really”, she whispered.

“Yeah, I figured”, Kermit replied. “Still, I _do_ feel the same. For what it’s worth” and he leaned forward to kiss her.

That did it for her. She corresponded the kiss even as she broke down completely, dissolving into painful sobs that seemed forcibly torn from the depths of her soul. Kermit threw his arms around her and pressed her head to his chest. His white cotton shirt was soaked with tears in seconds.

“That’s right, sweetcakes, let it out”, he murmured as he rocked her. She clung to him until her sobs subsided and then she chuckled embarrassedly.

“What?” Kermit asked.

“I just can’t believe myself, bawling my head off and everything” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. “I read somewhere that female tears actually have a substance that kills male’s libido; apparently there’s a pheromone that lowers testosterone levels and— Oh, God, WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY!?” she told herself in exasperation.

Kermit bit back a smile. He wasn’t laughing at her, far from it, it was just that he found both funny and endearing the way she had of talking to herself. Still, she was very vulnerable and he didn’t want to risk it, so, instead he lifted her chin delicately and kissed her fully on the mouth, feeling triumphant when she responded in kind.

“Sweetcakes, you’re entitled” Kermit murmured against her cheek when they broke the kiss. “This day has been an emotional rollercoaster”.

“You can say that again!”

Kermit smiled and held her against him. He shifted slightly on the bed to better face her and kissed her again, very slowly, as if there was all the time in the world to savor the moment. He dragged his lips along her jawline and her neck, pressing a playful kiss to the hollow of her throat. She actually moaned at that, and Kermit grinned wolfishly in silent victory. He kept on his ministrations, kissing her shoulders and down her arms until he reached the bruise on her left wrist. He showered the injury with grateful kisses and pulled her into his embrace.

“I love you” he said raggedly.

She hugged him to her in response, as the knot in her throat had robbed her of the power of speech. Kermit pressed a kiss to her shoulder and then deftly undid the clasp that held the top of her party dress together. He peeled it off her as if he was unwrapping a much anticipated gift and inhaled sharply at the sight of her undergarments.

“Well, Sweetcakes” he said, unable to stop himself, “you certainly kept those well-hidden!”

Sarah snorted with laughter and relaxed fractionally. Kermit mirrored her smile.

“It’s a good thing, too” he added, bending to kiss her along her collarbones, then moving to the top of the aforementioned attributes, still demurely covered by a plain black bra. “This isn’t a sight for just anyone to behold”.

He was delighted when he saw her furious blush extended well below her clavicles. He put his hand on the small of her back and laid her down on the bed, moving to rest beside her, bending to kiss her face, then her neck, her collarbones and the top of her breasts over her bra. His hands wandered on her body, and unbelievably, she laughed out loud and wriggled violently.

“Do—don’t…” she whispered. “I’m—I’m ticklish…”

“I can see that…” he drawled, brushing his fingers around her navel and reveling in the way she writhed next to him.

“Seriously… Don’t… do… Oh! That…”

“All right, then” he obliged, and his hand went lower, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her panties. She jerked, hips thrusting up of their own volition and she saw him smile. “Yes… I see that’s better…”

He let his fingers linger on that spot, watching her arch her neck, blush spreading down her face and throat, and he ran his other hand across the delicate muscles of her neck as he hastily got rid of her underwear, his own shirt and boxers following suit. Kermit resumed his fondling, and she began to mimic his movements, hesitantly at first, and then with growing confidence as Kermit’ breathing became ragged and shallow. Her hands tangled in his hair, running her fingers through his scalp and thick tendrils, and she heard him moan. Sarah drew back, surprised.

“Is that good?”

“Yes… Yes, it is…” he murmured, breathless.

And she carried on with her caresses, gliding her fingers down his shoulders, his chest, stroking him with feather-like touches, brushing his nipples and then reaching forward to kiss them softly. She buried her head on his chest, inhaling deeply and deliberately. He rubbed himself against her, intoxicated by the feel of soft skin against his body, and tossed one leg over her hip to draw her even closer.

They lay like that for a while, kissing, stroking and suckling at each other. He moved to kiss the clover tattooed on her shoulder and then he slid both his hands under her back and uncla1sped her black bra. He tossed it away with a flourish and Sarah bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Next thing she knew, Kermit had buried his head in her naked chest with an impatient groan, and he was mouthing at her breasts hungrily. He smiled when he heard her little whimpers. He kissed a path down her belly, watching her squirm and snigger again. He stopped when he reached her mound, running an inquiring finger across it. She moaned softly and Kermit lowered his head.

“Is that good?” he whispered, echoing her words.

“Yes…” she felt his finger exploring her gently and let out a strangled yelp. “Oh… God—!”

And then her world exploded in a waterfall of glittering emeralds and bright hues of blue, swirling with soft tenderness around her. There was no trace of his dreadful imagery now, just sated completion and overwhelming pleasure.

It hit her hard to realize it was her who was giving him this pleasure, so much that she almost didn’t feel his tongue exploring the most intimate part of her, and in the daze of thought and feeling, she utterly neglected to stop him.

Not that she wanted to, anyway.

  She closed her eyes and drifted into that sea of sensations, and soon enough she was rocking against his head, moaning quietly as he pleased her with his tongue. She didn’t realize the exact time when he climbed on top of her and drifted his lips from one breast to the other, as he slid his lower body between her thighs, but she wrapped her arms and legs around him anyway, thrusting her hips up instinctively, and felt him ease inside her slowly, carefully, but hungrily all the same, and soon enough she felt him in her, moving smoothly in and out of her body.

She moved to meet his thrusts, breathing raggedly, and she buried her nose on his chest, inhaling his piquant aroma. She licked at his neck and ran her hands through his hair again, and was rewarded with his moans of pleasure. She moved her lips to his earlobes, his shoulders and his collarbones, and that caused him to quicken his pace almost helplessly. She glided her hands down the length of his back, caressing it softly and holding him to her as his shuddering body heralded his nearing orgasm. The thought of actually experiencing his completion for the first time sent Sarah over the edge and everything around her flashed again in red shades of overwhelming brightness.

 In the meantime, Kermit had eased out of her and he was now pulling her close to him, wrapping legs and arms around her as if fearing she’d fly away. Sarah threw an arm across his chest and entangled her legs with his, panting slightly into his torso. He tangled his fingers through her hair and finally gathered the valor to point out that she didn’t seem to have reached completion. She chuckled softly and he shivered at the feel of her warm breath against the skin of his chest.

“I did”, she assured him, and she winked at him, “three times, as a matter of fact. _Bravo_ , Detective”.

 He grinned back at her, and lifted her chin to kiss her lips adoringly.

“Three times, uh?” he said, feeling extremely proud of himself, “you’re so good for me, Sweetcakes…”

He sighed and he held her close to him, as they both gave into peaceful sleep.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Sarah was suddenly woken by the irruption of a cascade of images in her brain. She saw herself tied and bound, curled into her side in the corner of a darkened room, her face bloody and her body a singing agony of pain. She didn’t seem to mind that, though, and her primary concern appeared to be to ‘keep them safe’. Who ‘they’ were, she couldn’t fathom. The image shifted and she saw Caine, Peter and Kermit engaged into a fierce fight against five or six men clad in black clothing and ski masks over their heads. Kermit’s anguish was tangible, a single thought drumming in his mind even as he delivered blows and kicks left, right and center: _‘I must find them, let them be OK, please, please, please—‘_

In bed, Kermit thrashed in his sleep, and their mental connection broke as suddenly as it had begun.

“Kermit” Sarah shook him slightly. “Kermit, wake up”.

In a second, Kermit’s hand had reached for his gun on the bedside table, and he was aiming at Sarah, staring at her blankly as if in a trance.

“Wow! Hold your fire, Detective!” Sarah exclaimed, trying to sound as if she wasn’t scared to death. Without giving it much thought, she grabbed the Desert Eagle by the barrel and took it from him softly. “Hey, it’s me, Kermit. Join me in this plane of existence, won’t you?”

Kermit blinked in confusion and his eyes became focused slowly.

“Sarah?” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes like a child and blinked again. “What— are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine” Sarah replied. “It was just a dream”.

And her mind quickly added: _Was it?_

Kermit still looked wary, as if he couldn’t tell where he was or what he was doing. Still, he held out his arms to Sarah, who quickly threw herself into his embrace. After all, she too had felt and seen what he had.

“It’s OK, Kermit, really, it’s OK” she said comfortingly. His heart still beat a rapid drumroll against his chest, but he gradually calmed down and realized for the first time he was in bed with his arms around a very naked Sarah. What was more, he was also completely devoid of clothing.

The events of the previous night came to his mind, temporarily pushing aside the nightmarish images that still haunted him and he smiled to himself, dropping a kiss to the dark head pressed against his bare chest.

“I love you, Sweetcakes” he said.

“I love you, too”, she replied, sending a thrill through him as her words vibrated against his skin.

They lay in each other’s arms, sharing the comfortable silence. Kermit ran his fingers through Sarah’s hair and he felt her sigh into his chest.

“I wish we could stay like this all day” she murmured.

“Why can’t we?”

Well… I’m guessing we’re going to have to discuss everything that happened yesterday at some point. I don’t see the use, but you mark my words, we’ll go over it until we spin”, Sarah said. “And, I would like to pay Lyn a visit”.

“Of course, you’re right”, Kermit mumbled, and, as if on cue, a discreet rap on the door interrupted what was left of Kermit’s bliss.

 _“Yes?”_ he intoned dangerously. Sarah put a soothing hand on his chest.

“Begging your pardon, sir”, Lucas said from the other side, “but Master Rykker requests your and Miss Blaisdell’s presence in the drawing room”.

“What, _now?”_ He’s not even going to feed us first?”

“My name is Greene”, Sarah grouched, sitting up in bed, which brought her attributes to attention.

“Oh, I’ll Greene you this!” Kermit laughed, and bit at her naked breasts, eliciting an involuntary (and very audible) moan from her.

“Luncheon will be served presently”, Lucas announced loudly, trying and failing to hide his discomfort.

“Yes, thank you, Lucas”, Kermit voiced in between kisses, relishing in Sarah’s accelerated breathing.

“Kermit…” she gasped.

“I shall let Master Rykker know you’re coming, then”, Lucas said uncertainly.

“Oh… coming we are!” Kermit trumpeted, followed by Sarah’s laughter. Lucas scurried away, mortified.

Eventually, Kermit and Sarah managed to leave the room, and adjourned to the drawing room, where everybody was already waiting. Peter gifted them with a knowing glance, and Paul pretended to be very busy with the curtain cord. Caine merely nodded, as if he had expected nothing less.

“Why, thank you for honoring us with your presence”, Rykker remarked acidly. Kermit took an ironic bow and Sarah remained impassive.

“As we were saying before your arrival”, Rykker continued, “funeral arrangements have been made for Riordan. We must wait until Scotland Yard relinquishes him, but I do not think there will be an issue. The shooting, however”, Rykker gave a deep sigh, “I had to pull every string and call on every favor I was owed to hush it all up. So that’s that, and may God have mercy on Riordan’s soul. Now, onto more pressing matters… I am thoroughly embarrassed by the easiness with which they have trespassed my wards. That’s no small feat, so… it begs the question…”

“We have a traitor in our midst”, finished Katya. It might have been Sarah’s perception, but it seemed to her that Kalashnikov Tinkerbell’s gaze lingered uncomfortably on Sarah.

“That would be the obvious conclusion, surely”, Rykker said, “but I am afraid I’ve always prided myself on selecting my cronies carefully”.

“One of your servants, then”, Boynton said.

“Most of them have stuck by me through thick and thin, but of course, it is a possibility”.

“And what are we going to do, hold a mercenary trial?” Blaisdell spoke with no real animosity.

“No… I think not”.

“There is a simple way to weed them out”, Peter said. “We… ‘let slip’ different bits of intel in front of each suspect, and whatever gets out… That’s our mole”.

“I am afraid I’d rather not risk it”, Rykker said.

Everyone fell silent.

“Well, so what now?” Sarah spoke impatiently. Kermit rather thought that she had been trained to be decisive rather than contemplative, and it was beginning to show; still, no one seemed to have the answer to her question.

“Didn’t you say there were dark forces at bay, Caine?” Paul said reluctantly. “Couldn’t—?”

Sarah fought the urge to tsk. Despite her paranormal experience at Shambhala and everything she’d witnessed Caine was capable of, she still found very hard to reconcile with supernatural interventions.

“That I said”, Caine spoke softly. “But… nothing more… has been revealed to me”.

“Figures” Kermit said.

“Luncheon is served” announced Lucas from the threshold, startling them all.

“Well, I suggest we eat while we can”, Rykker said. “I’m afraid things will set into motion quickly, whether we want them to or not”.

 

 

Luncheon was a subdued affair, and afterwards, the party dispersed quickly. Kermit and Sarah joined the Blaisdells and Peter and took one of Rykker’s town cars to the hospital to pay Lyn a visit; thanks to Caine’s ministrations, she was expected to make a full recovery, but nevertheless, Annie and Kelly insisted on staying with her until she was discharged.

“You’ll let us know, won’t you?” Paul said anxiously. “Don’t go wandering about, it’s not safe… Call Kermit on his cellphone, we’ll come and pick you up”.

“We will, dear”, Annie assured him. “As soon as the doctors say Lynie can go, we will call you”.

 

Paul, Kermit, Sarah and Peter left the hospital with lifted spirits, although Paul looked dead on his feet.

“You should go back to the Manor and get some rest, Paul”, Peter said.

Paul sighed but didn’t argue.

 _“Cliché_ as it sounds, I am not as young as I once was”, he said. “This is beginning to get to me”.

“Well, it’s your family being targeted”, Kermit said, “so, yes, I’d expect so”.

“All right, I’ll go. What will you be doing?”

“I wanted to take Sarah to see a few landmarks” Kermit explained, “and, I thought I’d try and find Callahan, I hope he’s still in town”.

“Callahan, as in MI-6 Callahan?”, Peter asked.

“The one and only”, Kermit agreed. “I thought his experience might come in handy. And I need to use his network, I feel handicapped without my PC. Want to come, Pete?”

“Sure, why not?” Peter agreed, so they bid Paul adieu and watched as the town car swerved into London’s traffic.

Kermit hailed a cab, opened the back door for Sarah to get in and followed suit. Peter joined them in the back seat, rubbing his hands together.

“Barbican Estate”, Kermit said, and off they went.

They spent most of the day visiting London landmarks, trying their best not to look like tourists and failing. A heavy sleet fell suddenly, and seeing as they were the only ones without umbrellas, they ran into the nearest coffee house and ate an early supper before getting into another cab to visit Callahan.

Sarah had rather envisioned him as a Roger Moore look-a-like, with tux and a martini (shaken, _not_ stirred), but again, her mental portrait was way off mark, because Callahan was short, plump and jolly, much like a balding, beardless Santa Claus. He did have a wide selection of spirits, however, and opened a bottle of exquisitely aged scotch, and poured them all a glass.

“So, Kermit, m’boy”, he said, “Do tell me everything”.

 

And Kermit did, making a succinct and dispassionate account of everything that had transpired, including, much to Sarah’s astonishment, the basics to their own mystic experience in Shambhala.

“I know Caine”, Callahan blurted out suddenly, and Peter’s jaw dropped.

“Say what?” he said.

“Yes, yes; I met him… oh, forty years ago, I believe; give or take a few months… I was working undercover near Braniff and some unexpected circumstances landed me in his temple”.

Kermit didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“I knew looking for you was a good idea”, he said.

“And I am ever so glad you did”, Callahan said cheerfully, “I’ve always loved a good mystery!”

“Well, this one is right up your alley”.

“So… who do you think is the leak?” Callahan asked, “Dorcas, the faithful maid?” and he burst into jolly chuckles at his very British joke.

“Very Agatha Christie”, Sarah said, speaking for the first time, “but seriously, now, I think is that butler, Lucas”.

“Is that so, m’dear?” Callahan asked. “Why do you think so?”

“I don’t really know”, Sarah said truthfully, “it’s just… this gut feeling doctors learn no to ignore. And, I just don’t like him. He is too efficient, even for a Brit”.

That made Callahan roar with laughter.

“Oh, Kermit, she’s a jewel!” he bellowed, wiping tears of mirth from his crimson face.

“I know”, Kermit said quietly.

That seemed to sober Callahan up. He raised his glass in silent toast, and continued:

“I don’t think Rykker would’ve hired him off the streets. I am certain he ran a thorough background check on him when he hired Lucas”, Callahan said with intention.

“He might have gone rogue later on”, Kermit said.

“Precisely, m’boy”, Callahan agreed. “Now, I assume you want me for my goods, no?”

“Oh, yeah”, said Kermit, raising an eyebrow. “Rykker is very well connected, but I couldn’t risk using his network, so, if you don’t mind…”

Callahan lead the way to his small library, where he kept his personal computer. Kermit watched indulgently as Sarah drifted towards the bookcases, and he sat down at Callahan’s desk, cracking his knuckles before he began to type at top speed.

“Oh, I’ve got a new trinket” Callahan said suddenly, and rummaged through his drawers until he extracted a small square object, which he handed to Kermit.

“Impressive”, Kermit said, eyeing it without removing his glasses, “where’d you get this?”

“Oh, MI-6 can be quite generous at times”, Callahan said lightly. “It’s a shame we don’t have a set of Lucas’s fingerprints”.

“He always wears gloves”, Peter supplied.

“ _Weeell_ …” Sarah intervened, blushing crimson, “much in Miss Marple’s fashion, I found the way he acted after the shooting a little suspicious , so I… well, sort of kept something he touched after he removed his gloves”, she finished, and held out a small object wrapped in one of Rykker’s elegant tablecloths. It was a small mirror with three clear fingerprints on its surface.

“Well, well”, Callahan said, admiringly. “Aren’t you Paul’s daughter indeed”, He took the mirror from her with caution and examined under the lamp.

“But I thought we’d agreed he was probably clean”, Sarah said doubtfully.

“Oh, I am not going to run these by the official channels, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said. He took the mirror from Callahan and placed it over the device, then typed some more. “I am going to leave this to compile” he announced, and then turned to Callahan: _“Don’t_ you touch it. I know you fancy yourself a hacker, but just.DON’T.TOUCH.it. Call me the minute you get a match”.

 

~*~

 

 

Kermit’s humongous cellphone rang loudly, startling Sarah out of her very scattered wits. They had been walking around the Jubilee Gardens, a cup of coffee in hand, and sorting through muddy puddles. Peter had gone back to the hospital to check on the Blaisdell girls, leaving Kermit and Sarah to their own devices.

Sarah was silent, apparently lost in thought, and Kermit had been looking at her freely from behind his dark glasses, admiring the way she seemed to bloom in the icy weather without even realizing it.  He suppressed a smile when she jumped, and delved through his large overcoat searching for his cellphone.

“Griffin”, he answered.

“Kermit” said Peter in a hushed voice, “where are you?”

“We’re still at the Jubilee Gardens, where you left us. Did something happen?”

“You could say so. Don’t move, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes”.

Kermit hung up and Sarah looked at him inquiringly.

“Peter”, Kermit said simply. “He said he’d be here in ten minutes”.

“Now what?” Sarah exclaimed, unable to help it.

“Not liking the Mata Hari experience?” Kermit joked.

“Not even a little bit”.

Kermit kissed her forehead and held her close to him. He noticed she was shivering.

“It’ll be alright, Sweetcakes”, he said in a hollow voice.

“Will it?”

“…I don’t know”.

A cab slowed down, coming to a halt in front of them. Peter rolled down the back seat’s left window to catch their attention.

“Get a move on!” he hollered.

Kermit and Sarah hurried inside, and the cab sped off towards Rykker Manor.

“So?” Kermit raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“One of Rykker’s cars blew up”, Peter said succinctly. Kermit remained impassive, but Sarah took her hands to her face in horror.

“Boynton died. Sterling is hurt but alive, and Katya is spitting nails, but otherwise unharmed. She was supposed to be in the car as well”.

“Of course, we don’t know who did it, do we?” Kermit rubbed at his eyes from behind his glasses.

“It had to be an inside job”, Peter said. “I am starting to believe you might be right about Lucas, Sis”.

“But we need to prove it”, said Sarah. “What about your Dad, what does he say?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. No one has seen him since this morning”.

“Oh, God, you don’t think he—” Sarah begun, horrified.

Kermit and Peter laughed dismissively.

“No, no. He’s fine. He’s just— prone to sudden disappearances”.

“Oh… I see”.

“And, what about Rykker?” Kermit asked.

“Oh, he is, in his own words, _miffed”_ , Peter replied. “He seems to have taken these attacks as a personal insult. I think he believed it was only ourselves targeted and now... Well, he’s not so sure”.

“He was also involved in the Atherton retaliation, he can’t pretend otherwise”, Kermit observed gravelly.

“I am starting to believe this has nothing to do with that”, Sarah said apparently to herself. Kermit eyed her thoughtfully but he didn’t get a chance to reply, as the cab stopped at the gate, and they got out swiftly. Peter pressed the intercom and they identified themselves so as to gain entrance.

They walked through the cobbled paths, still pondering theories, until they reached the smoking remains of one of Rykker’s elegant town cars. Katya was standing not far away, completely dressed in black, and staring moodily at the charred scraps of metal.

“I was set to be there”, she said dryly to no one in particular. “If I hadn’t stepped out to take a leak, I would have been”.

“What’s this still doing here?” Kermit asked.

“SY is scheduled to come by with special equipment to remove them later in the day”, Katya said.

“Oh, I see. How’s Sterling?”

“He got a foot blown op, but other than that…” Katya said offhandedly. Sarah’s eyes widened at the woman’s lack of empathy.

 _Well, she_ is _a mercenary, for crying out loud, what did you expect?_ Sarah said to herself.

“And how are you holding up?”

“Me? Oh, I am just dandy!” Katya said, a little too shrilly. “I wish it would be over, but I am peachy. Oh, look, there’s SY, right there”.

And sure enough, a small crew of grim looking technicians was climbing cumbersomely up the small hill, dragging behind them a couple of wheeled boxes.

“We’d best leave them to it”, Katya said. “Care for some tea?” she added, exaggerating her British accent, which made Peter crack a smile.

 

They walked back to the Manor in silence and entered the drawing room through the ornate glass door. Rykker was there, all alone, sitting in a chintz chair and holding a snifter of brandy in his hand. He jumped slightly when he heard the door sliding into place, and looked up.

“Oh, you’re back. Jolly good, jolly good”, he seemed to have lost his usual zest. “Any news?”

“Callahan sends his regards”, Kermit said simply. Rykker lifted his glass in silent toast.

“I gather you’ve already heard what happened”, he said.

“Oh, yeah”, Kermit replied. “Scotland Yard arrived just a while ago”.

“Yes, I know. Lucas informed me”, Rykker said tiredly. “Well!” he exclaimed in a feeble attempt at humor, “Where is Caine the Almighty and why hasn’t he solved this and made us all look like nitwits?”

“Your guess is as good as ours”, Peter said. “But maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with Pop, and it has a much simpler explanation” he finished, looking pointedly at him.

“Rykker, I think you need to consider the possibility that someone in your staff is in league with Atherton”, Kermit said.

“My dear Griffin”, Rykker replied solemnly, “you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am a complete imbecile. Permit me to disabuse you of that notion. I have _all_ members of my staff _thoroughly_ background-checked, and my standards are high. If even the slightest hint of difficulty arises, well…” Rykker made an expressive hand gesture.

“You’re too sure of yourself”, Kermit rebuked.

“I have every reason to be”.

“Be that as it may, the fact remains that _someone_ has managed to get close to you undetected, and has made unsuccessful murder attempts… _so far._ But maybe, not for much longer”.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Rykker, don’t play coy! You know perfectly well what I mean!”

 

Rykker fell silent. Sarah walked towards the windowpane and stared outside, hugging herself. Peter walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass without asking Rykker for permission. He didn’t seem to notice. A sudden movement caught Sarah’s eye and, without giving it much thought, she came away from the window as she issued a low warning:

“Get down”.

She did as she said, and no sooner had she checked to see if Kermit had done the same than a stream of bullets erupted through the windowpanes, scattering glass everywhere with an eerily melodic sound. The blast only lasted seconds, but for Sarah it felt like a lifetime.

Kermit, Katya and Peter where swiftly on their feet, guns in hand, and sprinting towards the grounds, but Caine had beat them to it, and was already kicking the wadding out of a mask-clad man. Katya ran a few more feet, swift as a gazelle, effectively subduing a second fellow.

“Who do you work for!?” she yelled into his face, yanking his head back by his hair; the man remained impassive. “ _WHO_ DO YOU—”

“Katya”, said Caine softly.

He motioned Peter so that he’d stand guard over the man in Caine’s grip, and he approached Katya slowly. Caine bent and pressed some point between the shooter’s shoulder and collarbone, and the guy howled in pain.

“Answer the lady’s question”, Caine said softly. The guy spat at him. Caine, unruffled, wiped the spit away from his face and repeated his command, adding more pressure to the man’s shoulder, making him yowl.

“ALRIGHT!” he yelled in a heavy accent Sarah couldn’t place. The man let out a stream of expletives that only Caine seemed to understand. The guy fell silent and Sarah watched Caine close his eyes in a long suffering expression, but he didn’t say a word. He stepped aside as to allow Peter to place the cuffs on the man, while Kermit did the same with the other one, still out could on the ground. Sarah’s medical training compelled her to kneel and check on the man, but Kermit stopped her before she could touch him, shaking his head in silent denial.  Katya had walked away from the small party and was now returning accompanied by one of the SY forensic investigators, who tutted in disapproval at the scene before her.

“Oh, the boss is going to have a conniption”, she said in a heavy cockney accent, which brought a small smile to Sarah’s face, despite the gravity of the situation. Things did indeed look more and more like taken out of an Agatha Christie novel.

“Well, hey, at least this time we caught them”, Peter said brightly, and as usual, his effervescent charm seemed to allay the girl’s worries.

Sarah pushed her hair away from her face and inched close to Kermit.

“What just happened?” she murmured.

“To quote Caine: _“I… do not know”,_ Kermit said mockingly. “But I am sure _he_ does. Let’s ask him”.

But Caine was nowhere to be found. Somehow, he had managed to vanish in plain sight.

The wails of the police sirens were heard approaching the grounds; Kermit and Sarah stayed with Peter and Katya to give a full account of what had just transpired. The two perpetrators remained stubbornly silent and were hauled off into a Police car without further ado. The forensics team scattered through the grounds in search for evidence, and Sarah tended to Rykker, who had suffered a hypertensive crisis. Paul had slept through the whole ordeal, courtesy of his sleeping pills and, after the Police finally left, Peter took Katya to the hospital to visit Sterling and to check on the Blaisdell girls, who were thankfully away from the Manor, all of which left Kermit free to go and search for the elusive Kwai Chang Caine.

In the words of Ricky Ricardo, he had some _splainin’_ to do.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DEFINITELY smutty ahead!

 

Sarah hadn’t ventured around the manor since that first night when she’d played the piano in the middle of the night; but now, she decided a second expedition was in order. After all, it was almost midnight, and Kermit still hadn’t returned from wherever he’d gone, so she decided she could do a little research of her own, even if part of her found the idea preposterous. _You do remember what happens to those who venture on their own in Agatha Christie’s novels, don’t you¸_ she told herself, but nevertheless, she walked silently through the hallways, pausing every now and then to peer inside unlocked rooms. Most of them were sumptuous, dark and seemingly devoid of suspicious activity. A clock chimed in the distance and a nocturnal bird emitted a high-pitched cry.

 _Where’s Felix the cat rolling his eyes?_ Sarah thought unamused.

 

She kept on walking until she reached the kitchen. She turned on the bright lights and glanced around at the polished floors, the shiny appliances and the steady display of wealth that permeated even what was supposed to be the coziest room of the house. She entertained briefly the thought of making herself a cup of tea and wait for Kermit to return, and she even set about the task half-heartedly, thinking she’d be lucky if she managed to find a teabag in those endless cabinets. She ambled aimlessly around, opening and closing cupboards at random, without finding anything remotely resembling a teabag. She reached a small door at the far end of the kitchen, and try as she might, the door wouldn’t open.

“Give it up and go back to bed”, she told herself firmly, but she didn’t relinquish her grip on the small door. She kept struggling to pop it open, figuring she might find something interesting on the other side, as that was the way it always was in Agatha Christie’s novels and cheesy soap operas alike.

She finally got it open and stepped into what it seemed to be a small pantry. It was dark and the light switch didn’t work when she flicked it. Still, a faint light seemed to shimmer about, and Sarah tiptoed carefully towards it, until she stepped on what it felt like a trap door. She kneeled to pull it open, which she managed with some difficulty, and she then begun descending down some cold, moldy stone steps.

“You’re _so not_ using your little gray cells _at all, ma chère”_ , she chided herself, but kept going down nonetheless.

 

At the end of the stairs a stone corridor begun, that seemed to end in a closed door. Sarah crossed the path swiftly and turned the doorknob, expecting to find some resistance, but the door gave in easily. Sarah pushed it open slowly… and froze in her tracks, her right hand still hovering over the doorknob, shocked at the sight that greeted her.

The door lead to a small room subtly lit with red tinges. An altar rose in a corner, adorned with dried flowers, arcane symbols and what it looked suspiciously like bones. Maybe, even human bones.

 _I don’t think Rykker knows this is in here,_ Sarah thought disconnectedly.

A hooded figure hobbled about, pacing items in the altar while chanting in an eerie droning voice. The red light in the room seemed to pulse in time with the intonation, making Sarah’s skin crawl.

A spiral of smoke began to twirl above the hooded figure’s head, making capricious forms in the air, and darkening as it neared the figure. The chants continued, but now, Sarah was sure she was listening to more than one voice. From what it seemed like another lifetime, Sarah remembered her experience at Shambhala, and found certain similarities with what was happening before her eyes. The ritual was darker and charged with evil, of course, but it almost seemed as if the man in the hood was being bonded to… _something_ in that smoke.

 

This time there was no question about it: there _were_ two voices in that monotonous chant. Sarah couldn’t make out the words, but she didn’t like it in the slightest. Still, she remained rooted to the spot.

The hooded man rose into the air and held out his arms, his voice raising; the smoke now enveloped him completely. On instinct, Sarah took a step back. The candles at the altar began to sizzle and crackle, and the man’s voice was now but a high-pitched, incoherent scream. His head lolled backwards, the hood falling off his head, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Sarah gasped and retreated as hastily as the adrenaline in her body allowed her.

The man under the hood was Lucas.

 

≈§≈

 

Sarah was exhausted, but try as she might, she couldn’t sleep. She was in a state of turmoil, and even though she had barricaded herself in her bedroom, she feared that Lucas would slip through the crevices in a swirl of smoke. Kermit was nowhere to be found, and the same could be said about Caine; still, Sarah had to tell _someone_ about what had just happened, so after a few more minutes of tossing and turning, she summoned her courage, threw on a warm coat, pulled up her hair, slipped on her trainers and left her bedroom.

 

It was the wee hours of the morning and a thick fog clung to the windows and whirled on the ground. Sarah briefly considered getting a cup of coffee to warm herself up, but she dismissed the thought with a shiver. She _never_ wanted to be near that kitchen _again._  She exited the main building through the glass door in the drawing room, burrowing deeper into her coat for warmth. The occasional snowflake fell every now and then, and a cutting wind blew, chilling her to the bone marrow. She walked aimlessly for a while, until she reached the garage, in front of which the town car had been blasted to smithereens the day before.

 _Has it really only been a day?_ She wondered bemusedly.

Katya was standing there alone, almost in the same spot she’d been the day before; she acknowledged Sarah’s presence with a small nod and her breath came out in a white cloud.

“You’re up early”, she said without inflection.

“I actually didn’t go to bed”, Sarah replied, and without further ado, she launched herself into a hurried account of what had transpired below the kitchen floor.

Katya raised a delicate eyebrow, and lit a cigarette with elegant movements.

“Does Kermit know yet?”

“No, he— What?” Sarah’s head shot up in annoyance at her tone.

“Well, you’re his little woman, no?” Katya said, still dripping contempt.

“Oh, and you have me pegged for the damsel in distress type, who knows nothing more than to run to a man for guidance, don’t you”, Sarah replied, matching her tone for tone.

“Darling, you’re _way_ out of your element here”, Katya replied, scornfully. “And you… well you have this Disney Princess thing going on about you”, she said, gesturing vaguely at Sarah. “You seem about to break out in song, with forest animals doing your bidding. You sort of call out for protection, and that’s Kermit’s soft spot. He’s overprotective to the point of lunacy, especially where a pretty, doe-eyed woman is concerned, _particularly_ if the aforementioned doe eyes are looking at him in adoration. It’s always been his downfall. So, I naturally assumed…” Katya fell silent and took a long dreg out of her cigarette.

 Sarah stared at her incredulously, thinking that was rich coming from someone who looked like Tinkerbell right down to the bitchy attitude. _Disney Princess?_ Sarah thought. _Doe–eyed? Calling out for_ protection? She fought the urge to snort. If Sarah hadn’t known better she would have thought Katya was _jealous._

“Well, never you mind”, Katya was saying then, expelling the smoke through her nose. “Oh, Rykker is going to go berserk—” she inhaled again, and then threw the butt to the side of the cobble path, extinguishing it with the tip of her heavy boot.

“Look, someone is coming”.

Sarah looked almost against her will in the direction Katya was pointing out and sure enough, she made out two indistinct figures through the morning mist. One of them was Caine, walking in his linen shirt and old-fashioned terracotta trousers as if it wasn’t 20°F outside. The other one was Kermit, his bulky leather overcoat his only concession to the freezing cold. Sarah’s heart fluttered warmly in anticipation and she knew she was blushing because Katya snorted derisively at the sight of her. _See what I mean?_ Katya’s eyes seemed to say. Sarah did her best to ignore her, especially when Kermit spotted her, smiled his wolfish grin and held out his arms to her. Sarah ran to meet him without a second thought and melted into his embrace, hugging him back fiercely. Kermit drew back a little to look at her.

“Sweetcakes?” he asked, with the slightest hint of worry in his voice.

“I’m fine…” Sarah replied. I just— I needed that”, and she hugged him again.

 

 Kermit lifted her chin with his gloved thumb and kissed her slowly. Sarah responded in kind, almost dissolving into a puddle, and proving Katya right in the process. She utterly failed to give a rat’s ass about it. She opened her eyes, still savoring the moment, and broke the kiss reluctantly. Without relinquishing her grip on Kermit, Sarah proceeded to fill him and Caine in the recent developments regarding Lucas. Kermit seemed both horrified and marveled at the risk she’d taken, but Caine only nodded as he’d expected nothing less.

“We are… dealing with shadows”, he said. Sarah rather thought he was stating the obvious, but she refrained from commenting.

“So, what do we do now?” Katya said, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

“Now… we are careful”, Caine said. “Danger…has risen to meet us. The Shadow… awaits for its victim”. He didn’t elaborate further, though.

“Yeah, well, we knew that already”, Katya spat, looking at the burn marks behind them. “Which reminds me, Rykker said to call SY for updates. Do excuse me”, she said, and with that, she turned on her heels and walked martially towards the house.

“So, Caine”, Kermit said. “Is it now an appropriate time for our mystic role to be revealed, or—?”

“I—” Caine began, with his usual shrug, but Kermit held up a hand.

“Oh, spare me”, he said, and taking Sarah’s hand, he led the way to the Manor.

 

 

≈§≈

 

They crossed the threshold of Sarah’s bedroom tangled with one another, kissing desperately and tearing at each other’s clothes. They left a stream of discarded garments leading up to the bed, and fell heavily into it, breath ragged and speech incoherent.

Sarah moaned wantonly, all her previous shyness forgotten, as Kermit teased her skin with lips and tongue. He traced a trail of kisses between her breasts all the way down to her bellybutton and up again, stopping to nibble at her nipples in turn. He relished in the way her hips undulated in his grip, and in the feel of her nails raking his back. He let his hand wander between her legs, smiling at the wet heat he found. He flicked her clit lightly, making her cry out and break into incoherent begging, which did wonders for his own desire.

Moving more swiftly than expected for a middle-aged man who had thought he’d die alone, Kermit positioned himself between her pale thighs and let his tongue swirl around her bellybutton, sensuously lapping his way down her mound, skipping the obvious path to bite the insides of her thighs. She moaned loudly and the sound went directly to Kermit’s groin. Hungrily, he pressed his mouth to her nether regions and began savoring her in earnest, his tongue seeking passage into her entrance as her hips rocked in tandem with his attentions.

“Kermit—” he heard her choke out.

“Yes, Sweetcakes”, he said, around a mouthful of clit.

“ _Please_ —”

Kermit smiled against her, rather enjoying her predicament.

“Yes?” he repeated. “Tell me”.

“Just— _just_ —Oh, _God_ —” Sarah seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“Just…?” he mumbled, and he slipped a finger inside her, thrusting it in and out in time with his suckling. Sarah became undone.

“Just _FUCK me!”_ she screamed with abandon, legs shamelessly spread, head tossed back and hips rocking rapidly, searching for her release. Kermit made her orgasm last, drinking in the sight of her face in the throes of passion. He waited until her spasms subsided before he withdrew his finger from her grip. He licked it playfully and then he placed both her feet on his shoulders, proceeding to do exactly as she had asked: he fucked her wildly, greedily, as if he couldn’t get enough. He bit at her nipples and neck even as he thrusted with _gusto_ , knowing he’d leave her marked and not caring. If anything, the thought seemed to egg him on. He pinned her arms above her head, holding her by the wrists as he pounded into her savagely, steading her hips with his free hand and increasing his tempo as she cried for more. He flipped her over effortlessly on all fours, ramming into her depths from behind, biting at the tattoos imprinted on her back, pulling at her hair and kneading her breasts with something akin to ferocity.

“You’re _mine,_ do you hear me? _Mine”,_ he said through gritted teeth as he thrusted. He then had her against the wall, her legs around his waist holding on for dear life as he slammed her against the wooden panels with the strength of their coupling.  Kermit was sure her cries of pleasure could be heard throughout the Manor, all the way to the stables, but that only fueled his desire. They fell into the bed again, and Kermit twisted her into a pretzel, her knees almost touching her ears, searching for new depths and angles until he emptied himself into her with a groan and collapsed on top of her.

“So”, he said, when he got his wind back, “how was that for a fucking?”

Sarah looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and licked her lips.

“Just what the doctor ordered”, she replied. “Wow. Just _wow._ It was magnificent. _You_ were magnificent”.

Kermit felt his spent manhood twitch with desire, and marveled inwardly. He wasn’t a young man anymore, after all. He shouldn’t be feeling the need to pound her into the mattress again so soon after their coupling, but then again, he shouldn’t have been able to fuck her as ferociously as he had, either.

“Come on, I’ve told you, you’re not a hundred”, Sarah said; apparently unaware that she had just read his mind.

Kermit chuckled. He shifted her in his arms so that she rested on her side against him, and he drew back a little to examine the aftermath of their fucking (there was no other word for it), and, now that the lust had cleared from his brain, he cringed at the sight that greeted him: Sarah’s mouth was puffy and her face, beard-burned; and her neck and breasts sported, not the usual hickeys one could easily conceal, but vivid welts and teeth marks that suggested Sarah had ran neck first into Dracula’s denture. The skin of her belly and sides had his fingers clearly imprinted from when he had grabbed her roughly to either switch positions or for support. Her backside also bore the mark of his fingers after the possessive kneading he had subjected her butt to. Her nether regions were purple and swollen, and the insides of her thighs also exhibited teeth marks. Repentant, Kermit cradled her into his arms.

“Oh, God, your fathers are going to kill me”, he mumbled into her chest. He felt her laughter vibrating through her ribcage, and he lifted his head to look at her.

“I’m sorry, Sweetcakes… I got— carried away”.

Sarah blinked.

“I _asked_ you to get carried away. I begged you, even. You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t desperately want”, she said, sternly. “I loved every second of it, it was passionate… unbridled… wonderful… It—you—” she stammered, suddenly overcome with emotion. Kermit held her close and rocked her gently, murmuring reassuring nothings in her ear, inwardly elated that she had found it as pleasurable as he had. Eventually she dozed off and, laying her gently on the pillow, he curled up next to her and slept.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more smut

A little over two weeks had passed since the dark ritual Sarah had witnessed, and Lucas was nowhere to be found.  Katya had been right, Rykker had indeed gone berserk at the news and had hired a professional cleaning service to have the small chamber thoroughly scoured, but on the whole, he couldn’t say he was surprised.

"Ever since I saw Caine walk out the airport doors, I knew something like this was bound to happen”, Rykker said.

Scotland Yard had informed them (off record, of course), that, despite all the technology available to them, they hadn’t been able to find any form of explosive or flammable device in the wasted town car.

“It was as if the car had just spontaneously burst into flames”, the head investigator had said, nonplussed.  Rykker had remained silent, but of course, now he had a good idea as to _how_ had that happened.

Stranger occurrences had happened since, too. Sarah seemed charged with an odd type of energy, cold and silvery, that radiated from her in pulsing waves. Also, all sorts of things seemed to happen around her: Sarah didn’t seem to notice, she just floated around like a distracted ghost performing amazing bits of seemingly innocent magic such as closing doors behind her without touching them, bringing the kettle to a boil, turning on the opulent music player Rykker kept in the drawing room without even approaching it, making Katya and Peter roll down the stairs once (to Kermit’s admitted, infinite amusement), and stopping pans and pots from falling over. The appliances overcharged if she stood too close to them and the windowpanes cracked when she walked past them, and Caine eyed her thoughtfully each time it happened.

The welts and other assorted marks from Kermit and Sarah’s frenzied coupling hadn’t faded, either. If anything, they seemed to stand out angrily against her pale skin. Kermit felt a pang of guilt every time he was confronted with the evidence of his lack of finesse and self-control, but Sarah didn’t seem to mind. He had tried to bring it down a notch ever since, but they always ended up going at it wildly, as if they couldn’t get enough of one another. It wasn’t until the paranormal occurrences became usual around her that Kermit thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been in complete control of his body that first time when—

 _Yeah, way to wriggle out of it,_ he chided himself, _you were one hundred percent involved and don’t you deny it. You still are,_ every _time._  Still, deep in his gut he felt something was not quite right, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak to Caine about it. Also, he was having nightmares again. Usually he was aware of it in his dreams, but most of the time, his rational mind was frozen, trapping him inside his own brain and unable to wake up. He kept seeing Sarah dying in the most horrific ways, with him powerless to help her; and, in some scenes, even being the main cause of their death.

 _Wait,_ their _death?_ He questioned himself inside his dream. _What—?_

_Kermit…_

 

An off-sound, alien to his ears… Tolling… like a bell… _Kermit…_

_Save them, Knight. Save your kin._

It was the bald monk they’d met at Shambhala. His voice droned with a deep bass resonance not unlike Kermit’s own: _Survival will be your rite of passage, Knight. Face your demons._

Kermit woke up suddenly, finding it a bit anticlimactic. He turned in bed to see Sarah asleep next to him, one hand curled up into a fist, and tucked under her chin, and the other one supporting her head. He moved to kiss the tattoo on her shoulder, and settled comfortably to go back to sleep. But sleep eluded him, as it so often did.

 _The Shadow,_ he thought. _The Shadow waits for its victim._ The whole thing seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t—.

And just like that, the memory clicked into place. The Shadow Assassin, Peter had called him, the one responsible for Jody’s twin sister’s murder. Something Peter hadn’t able to forgive himself for, even after almost six years. The assassin had taken the lives of many in close relation to Peter, from Kira to his cleaning lady, and if Kermit’s memory served him correctly (which it did), the Shadow Asshole had almost succeeded in killing Blaisdell. Kermit was practically new to the Precinct, and he had nearly chewed Chief Streinlich’s head off at the hospital, beside himself with worry.

Kermit’s heart cringed. He hoped to the deities above he was mistaken and that Caine had meant _another_ Shadow, but deep down he knew things didn’t work out like that with Caine. And he felt nauseated every time he remembered Sarah had witnessed Lucas’s bonding with said Shadow. Even Caine had seemed worried at that, and had fluttered around Sarah ever since, checking her color and peering at her eyes in search of God knew what. When she’d begun to show signs of magic, Caine’s mind seemed at ease, so Kermit had decided to also think of it as a good omen.

 

Sarah sighed in her sleep, and Kermit’s finely tuned ear went on high alert, because the sigh sounded pained. Suddenly, Sarah shot up from the bed and bolted towards the bathroom, almost flying through the room. Kermit blinked in confusion and stood up to follow her.

“Sweetcakes?” he said as he knocked on the bathroom door, which stood ajar. He pushed through and found Sarah kneeling on the floor, clutching the toilet bowl as she retched violently.  He shot forward to hold her hair out of the way, and ran a soothing hand up and down her back until she was finished. Maybe it was his imagination, but once or twice he thought he felt a ruffle of feathers under his hand, when he touched her winged tattoo.

“Don’t move”, he instructed her and, standing up, he grabbed the glass holding the toothbrushes form the sink, tossed the toothbrushes aside, rinsed the glass and filled it with water. He went back to kneel beside her, and handed her the glass. Sarah took it gratefully, rinsed her mouth and spat into the toilet bowl. She then took a very small sip and swallowed the water slowly, with her eyes closed. Kermit looked at her critically: the bathroom’s bright light left nothing in the shadow, and each and every freckle and speck of sweat stood clearly against her wan face. Her lips were dry and ashen and she was trembling slightly. Kermit put a hand to her forehead. She was cold.

“What’s wrong, Sweetcakes?” He asked. “Something you ate?”

“No, I am pregnant”, Sarah said weakly. It was intended as sarcasm (malady tended to bring out Sarah’s darker side), but when she saw Kermit’s face lit up with faint hope she backpedaled quickly: “No, no! I was— I was joking, Kermit… I’m not—” and she cringed inwardly when Kermit’s face fell for half a second.

He hid his disappointment quickly.

“Come, Sweetcakes”, he said, standing up. “Let’s get you back into bed”.

He held out his hand to her and helped her up. Sarah swayed on her feet and had to clutch Kermit for support.  Kermit scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He deposited her softly and rearranged the covers around her.

“You’ll stay in bed”, he said, trying not to fret. “I’ll get Caine”.

Sarah didn’t argue. She rested back against the pillow and fell into a restless slumber. She didn’t stir when Kermit returned with Caine, who fluttered around her, putting his hand to her forehead, checking her pulse and, for all Kermit knew, balancing her chakras.

He sighed impatiently.

 _“Well?_   What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

“Nothing… is the matter with her”, Caine said softly. “She is… developing”.

“She— _What?_ ”

“Into her final form”, Caine said, apparently thinking that clarified matters.

Kermit was usually very understanding and wholly supportive of Caine’s seemingly crazy propositions (he chose to forget the Emma Affair), but he had no patience whatsoever for cryptic puzzles where Sarah was concerned. He crossed the bedroom in two long strides and invaded Caine’s personal space menacingly.

“ _Cut_ the bullshit, Caine”, he said dangerously. “This is the woman _I love,_ the woman you got me Bonded with. _Please_ , be straightforward for once!”

He removed his glasses and stared at the older man. At this close a distance, Caine could even see the small scarring in Kermit’s corneas; he shrugged and stood his ground.

“I know”, Caine said slowly, “that you never show your eyes to your adversaries. I am not your enemy, Kermit”, Caine bowed. “What I said is what it is”.

Kermit grunted like and angry bull.

“I am dreaming of me killing her!” he yelled before he could stop himself.

“You… will not kill her”, Caine assured him. “But your inner demons might”.

“See, I still don’t like that answer”, Kermit said, trying with all his might to regain a modicum of self-control.

“When I first became… a Shambhala Master”, Caine said, “I had to fight my inner demons in order to transcend. You… will have to do the same.  Shambhala was… where it all began. But… you sealed it off when you…” Caine fell silent, but Kermit knew what he had left unspoken and blushed puce.

“So… that’s why the bruises won’t fade”, he spoke almost inaudibly. He took a step back from Caine and slumped into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands.

“What have I done to her”, he murmured.

“You… have strengthened her. Together you have created a force of good against the Shadow”.

“Through lust?” Kermit said bitterly.

“Through passion”, Caine corrected him. Kermit tsked, unconvinced. “Only passions… great passions… can elevate the soul to great things”, Caine finished.

“The Dalai Lama?” Kermit offered dubiously.

“Denis Diderot”.

“You do it on purpose, don’t you”, Kermit said, with no real bite. Caine actually chuckled out loud.

“So”, Kermit spoke after a while. “All cryptics aside… what you mean to say is that she is—”

“With child, yes”, Caine agreed. “Or rather”, he added, in one of his awkward attempts at humor, “with children”.

 

Kermit nearly tumbled off the chair.

 

≈§≈

 

 

Caine was right, of course. A couple of weeks later, Kermit and Sarah took a trip to the hospital, mainly to visit Lyn, whose wound had become infected and had to be kept with IV antibiotics rather than be discharged as she’d hoped. She was bored out of her mind, what with being all cooped up in her hospital bed for over a month now, but little did she know Rykker had asked the doctors to keep her there along with her mother and sister so that they’d be out of harm’s way.  Sarah had scheduled an ultrasound as well, and sure enough, there they were: two little six-weeks-old embryos inside her womb, with two tiny beating hearts.

Kermit held Sarah’s hand closely as they watched the screen, trying very hard to swallow the lump in his throat. Considering his previous experiences with fatherhood, his being wary was only to be expected; but he was also ecstatic at the idea of Sarah bearing his children: terrified as he was that things would go awry (again), he couldn’t help but think that Caine wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to ensure the twins’ conception just so that they would get harmed.

Sarah was quite numb herself. She gazed at the dark screen so intensely it seemed like she wanted to imprint the first image of their unborn children forever in her retinas. Tears trembled in her eyelashes and rolled down silently down her cheeks and she felt her heart swell out with a myriad of emotions she couldn’t even begin to describe. This was something she had never let herself even consider before, the idea of motherhood, of being forever bonded in the most primal way to another, and she was astonished at the fierceness of this newfound feeling: she’d die for those two little assorted collections of cells currently growing inside of her, she’d kill for them, she would do everything in her power to keep them out of harm’s way. Sarah wiped absently a tear from her cheek and the lights in the room flickered. Kermit looked up, curiously.

“Everything all right, Sweetcakes?” he asked.

She nodded in assent.

“I just thought I _really_ need to tell my parents now”, she said, “They’re going to climb up the walls”.

 

Paul and Annie were all of a dither at the perspective of becoming grandparents; Lyn was a bit subdued when she found out, the memory of her stillbirth still fresh in her mind. Still, she managed to offer her congratulations to both Kermit and Sarah without a hint of bitterness, and even asked to be godmother to one of the twins.

“I called dibs on one of the Muppets”, Peter said cheekily, “so we’ll have to share Godparent duty”.

Kermit had rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses at that.

Annie and Kelly had gone shopping (heavily guarded from a distance by some of Rykker’s men), and had returned to the Manor with enough toys and pieces of clothing for a dozen babies. Peter smiled indulgently every time he looked at the couple and nagged Kermit to the end of his wits with boyish remarks about his prowess at engendering the upcoming bundles of sarcasm.

“Well, that must have taken some _serious_ entwinement of chis!” he’d yell until he managed to make them both blush like radishes. Even Rykker seemed swept up in the baby fever, and he showed it almost despite himself, doing things such as changing Sarah and Kermit’s quarters to a spacious bedroom on the ground floor so that the expectant mother wouldn’t have to climb so many stairs, and instructing his cook to prepare Sarah abundant and nutritious meals that she had trouble keeping down.

The nausea subsided a little in the passing weeks, but it still attacked her with a vengeance every now and then. Caine gave her herbs to chew and brews to drink and assured her and Kermit, once Sarah’s body embraced the magic within it, the nausea would be gone. Kermit rather thought that would be no small feat on her part, as the magic not only didn’t show signs of disappearing, but it had increased tenfold, and continued to do so as the pregnancy advanced.

Everyone felt it, too, from Rykker —the least open to supernatural experiences—, to the animals in the woods surrounding the manor, and it was a sight to behold, Sarah walking around the grounds with deer, dogs, foxes and assorted birds trailing behind her as a very bizarre group of valets, guarding her with fur, teeth and claws; Katya roared with laughter every time she caught a glimpse of the motley crew.

“Look at Snow White go!” she’d say, almost crying with mirth.

Kermit fumed when he heard Katya, but he couldn’t say there wasn’t a speck of truth to it, and it didn’t allay his worries in the slightest. Despite the fact that now it seemed like Sarah could give Caine a run for his money in the mystic department, Kermit did not make the mistake of thinking she’d be safer for it. If anything, in Kermit’s opinion, Sarah was now a beacon that shone brightly, beckoning evil forces, human and supernatural alike.

 

“Caine, this is your forte”, said Rykker, as if reading Kermit’s thoughts. They were gathered in the drawing room, examining some items Rykker had retrieved from Lucas’s altar beneath the kitchen. He had rather hoped to find anything that would lead them to Lucas’s whereabouts, but so far, they had been stumped. Caine stepped forward at Rykker’s beckoning and he hovered his right hand over the cups and candles. A small bolt of electricity shot towards his fingers, crackling in the air and leaving an intense smell of ozone, but nothing else happened.

“A Mr. Callahan is here to see you, sir”, announced a scared little maid from the threshold.

“Rykker, m’boy!” Callahan boomed from behind, pushing past the girl to step into the drawing room. “No, no, don’t get up! Oh, all right, then, it is not I who will say no to a cuppa… Paul, m’lad, looking good! Caine… long time, no see…”

Callahan made himself right at home, sitting in a chintz chair and spreading his abundant humanity until it almost filled the room. He accepted his cup of tea graciously and drank from it with delight, shoveling pastries into his mouth as if he hadn’t been fed in a month.

Katya looked at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes: Callahan being the legend he was among mercenaries and secret services alike, Katya had rather envisioned him as an older version of Sterling, and she couldn’t seem to reconcile the deeds to the man in front of her. Sarah bit back a smile. _Been there, done that,_ she thought.

“Well”, Callahan said in between mouthfuls, “I come bearing tidings. Your search yielded rather _astounding_ results, Kermit, m’lad. It just so happens that your darling Lucas has got _quite_ a reputation in the underworld! Of course, he went by another name, and actually, apparently he did stage his own demise a few years ago, so, naturally, it came as a great surprise to the… _third parties_ you contacted to learn that he had resurfaced… albeit with a rather thespian make-over”.

Callahan paused for dramatic effect, stuffed three pastries into his mouth and went for the grand finale, spraying them all with crumbs:

“Does the name Gunnar the Berserk mean anything to you?”

Kermit sat up swiftly, almost choking on his coffee.

“ _What?”_ he sputtered. “Gunnar _Byrnison?”_

“Oh, yeah”, Callahan said, mimicking Kermit, “the one and only”.

“Who the hell is that?” Peter asked.

“Oh, you know… the usual! Someone from our mercenary past who has borne a grudge from the eons of time and now he wants his revenge”, Kermit said scathingly.

“You mercenaries _really_ need to go to therapy and move on”, Sarah said, prompting a chuckle from Paul, Kermit and Callahan. Rykker and Katya remained dead serious.

“Anyway”, Kermit continued, “You do remember Gunnar, don’t you, Paul?”

“A sociopath and a lunatic”, Paul said distastefully.

“Hence the moniker “the Berserk”, Kermit agreed, “Actually, I daresay he’s worse than Atherton, although it’s a tough call. I shudder at the thought of those two working together… And I do not shudder easily. Gunnar has no morals, no qualms and no loyalties—”

“He always was in it for the sheer pleasure of the kill and for the money”, Paul said. “If he’s in league with Atherton… it must mean there is something big in it for him”.

“But what?” Sarah asked wonderingly. “I mean, from what I gather, he’s got the upper hand what with his magic powers and all”.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to betray Atherton and seize his sphere of influence”, Kermit said. “Atherton might not be magical, but he is very powerful”.

“There is… something else to consider”, Caine spoke softly from his corner. “Something… that concerns… the two of you”.

Sarah and Kermit looked at each other, momentarily nonplussed. Katya snorted loudly and rolled her eyes.

“Am I missing something, here?” she asked, acidly.

“Sarah… bears within her… the catalyst for great power”, Caine continued in his mellifluous voice. Katya made a sound like an angry cat and went to pour herself more tea. Sarah simply stared at Caine with wide eyes.

“You make it sound like I am a Trojan horse or something”.

Caine shrugged.

“Do you remember… what Master Dao spoke… at Shambhala?”

 

Peter half expected to get a flashback of his own, so commanding had it been his father’s voice. He looked around the room, waiting for Sarah to answer; the contempt emanating from Katya was tangible, Paul seemed anguished, Rykker looked as if he was working out a difficult mental problem and Callahan looked curious beyond his wits.

“Yes”, Sarah said simply.

“Well… there you have it”, Caine said.  “They… will enable you to… fulfill your Destiny”.

Katya laughed out loud this time, mouthing “Oh, my God!” in a very contemptuous manner.

“My _Destiny”_ , Sarah said meanwhile, dripping sarcasm. “This is _unbelievable._ So, you’re telling me that I am surrounded by hardened mercenaries and hot shot cops alike, but you’re going to use _my_ children to—” Caine held up a hand to stop her, sensing where she was getting at.

“No, no”, he said. “The power… dwells in you. They… are just the kindling”.

“Same difference!” Sarah almost shrieked, and all the lights in the room wavered violently. The elegant tea service exploded with a musical tinkle.

“ _Shite!”_ The word came out of Katya’s mouth forcefully.

Sarah balled up her fists and threw her head back, as if struggling to control herself. Her face went red, the muscles on her neck standing out, the carothid arteries both engorged and pulsing rapidly. The lights went out again, but didn’t flicker back on; books began to fall from the bookcases, and the windows rattled.

“Sarah!” exclaimed Kermit, but Caine stopped him.

“You must… not intervene”, he said.

“LIKE HELL!” Kermit bellowed and lunged forward, writhing out of Caine’s grasp.  He held out a hand to Sarah… And he was blasted backwards on his ass by an invisible but very powerful expansive wave.

 

Then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun. The lights went back on and Kermit rose unsteadily to his feet just as Sarah’s knees gave out.

“Did you do this, Caine?” he asked through gritted teeth, even as he lurched forward to catch Sarah and keep her from keeling over.

Caine shook his head in denial.

“That”, he said, “is a power I cannot wield”.

Kermit gulped. _Now_ he was worried. He turned to Sarah.

“Are you all right?” he asked concernedly.

Sarah nodded. She did feel alright, as the matter of fact, even her nausea was momentarily gone. Nevertheless, Kermit walked her carefully to a chair and deposited her gently, then moving to stand next to her.

“I am fine”, she said. “Are you? Did it— did _I_ hurt you?”

“No, Sweetcakes, I am fine. Falling on my ass every once in a while is something I could benefit from”, and he kissed the top of her head. Paul snorted with laughter, and Sarah eyed him gratefully.

“Thank you”, she mumbled.

“What is going on here?” asked Katya, her voice completely devoid of derision for once.

“Before… we travelled here”, Caine supplied. “I… took steps to seal the naissance… of a great source of power. Power… that can only be wielded… by a two-blooded shield”.

Paul’s heavy-lidded eyes widened in amazement; Callahan sat up, hanging onto Caine’s every word, Kermit rubbed at his eyes behind his dark shades and the rest of the party simply stared at Caine.

 _“What?”_ Sarah grouched.

“You, Sarah”, Caine said.

“This is ridiculous”, Sarah said, her disbelief quickly turning into anger. “The two-blooded shield, are you serious?”

“It is…part of an ancient prophecy”, Caine continued calmly, “one that has been kept for centuries by the grand masters. You were compelled, were you not, just recently, to imprint something into your skin?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, another gesture she shared with Paul.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she said, “I’ve got six of them, have you got a mystic explanation for each one? I like to get inked, many people do, end of story. That doesn’t make me—”

Kermit sighed. He had known all along those wings were an omen. Katya turned to Peter and whispered into his ear: “ _She_ has tattoos?” apparently, no one seemed to peg Sarah as the tattooed type.

“Besides”, Sarah finished triumphantly, “my tattoo has nothing to do whatsoever with Chinese mythology. I didn’t even know I was of Chinese descent up until I got dragged into this mess”.

“The prophecy is… Universal”, Caine shrugged. “It has no origin… and the end is blurred. It speaks of a female warrior, Daughter of the Fallen King and the Viper Mother, Healer of the weak, Shield to the Unwanted, Fetter of the Wicked, Chooser of the Slain, of a dark mane and lily-white skin, of two bloods, of power in eternal slumber, then unbound by a twin flame, awoken by the Knight without fear”.

Kermit inhaled sharply. Granted, he was biased, but he rather thought that sounded like Sarah right down to the single iota. The atmosphere in the room told him everyone else felt pretty much the same. Not even Sarah could find the strength to argue this time. And, if Caine was to be believed… that made Kermit the Knight without Fear, which certainly explained why Master Dao kept calling him “Knight”, at Shambhala. He rubbed at his eyes again and held out a hand to Sarah, who took it gratefully.

“Twin flame?” Peter murmured. “Isn’t that—?”

“Yes, my son”, Caine agreed. “It is the symbol of a divine union… with a divine purpose”.

“To defeat all evil”, Peter finished, and he added, unable to help himself: “well, so it _did_ take some serious entwinement of your chis to make those kids after all”.

“Give it a rest already, Peter, won’t you?” Kermit grouched. 

“Well, all this mystic drama is all very well”, Rykker said, “but how does it help us in our current predicament?”

This time, Peter, Kermit and Sarah all said in unison: “I do not know” and even Katya laughed afterwards.

“I… have told you before”, Caine said, “Atherton has allied himself with the Shadow. The Shadow needed a vessel and Atherton provided…. Gunnar. That… was the sacrifice required for his vengeance. We might defeat his human allies, but in order to truly vanquish this foe… we need the power you bear”, he finished, addressing Sarah again. Kermit put a hand to her midsection protectively, and she sighed in defeat.

“And am I supposed to just _know_ what to do with this power?” she asked. “So far, I’ve only managed to slay Mr. Rykker’s tea service, and, impressive as that might have looked, I don’t find it particularly lethal”.

“Well, you did knock me on my ass just then”, Kermit said cheerfully.

“I didn’t mean to” Sarah mumbled.

“No worries”, he said and kissed her hand. The lights flickered again and Peter cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh, right”, Kermit reluctantly let his lips part from Sarah’s hand and he sat in the arm of the chair next to her, a smug look on his face at the very tangible evidence of her reaction to his touch.

“I will help you… to harness this power”, Caine said to Sarah, “As of tomorrow, we begin”.

 

The party dissolved quickly after that. Rykker summoned the servants so that they’d clean up the mess of broken china, and Callahan politely refused Rykker’s offer of shelter for the night. Paul hugged Sarah extra hard before bidding her goodnight and Katya walked out of the room without once turning her back to Sarah, scuttling away like a hypervigilant crab, Kermit noted amusedly.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Katya would cower away from someone” he told Sarah once in their bedroom, with something akin to pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I don’t find it at all encouraging, to tell you the truth”, Sarah replied.

She climbed into bed next to him and nestled herself in his arms, resting on her side against his bare chest.

“I am frightened, Kermit”, she murmured. “I don’t— I feel like I am no longer in control, and I hate it”.

Kermit kissed the top of her head, but decided not to spout inanities of reassurance. Instead, he held her closer to him, his fingers lightly outlining the black wings tattooed on her back. Sarah almost purred with pleasure, wondering idly how could she go from fear to arousal at the flick of a finger on her skin, and reveling in the intensity of the response Kermit elicited from her. The light on the nightstand wavered. She closed her eyes, simply enjoying his caresses, feeling his fingers trace a flaming path on her back, almost as if he was willing her wings to come to life and—

“Oh, my God, Gunnar” she said, abruptly.

“What?” Kermit’s fingers stopped moving, his smile now strained on his face. “I’d say whatever works for you, but Sweetcakes, going there is a bit much”.

Sarah looked at him, nonplussed. Then she understood what he meant.

“No, no, no”, she said hurriedly, “Bear with me. Gunnar is just one of the many names of Gunther in the Song of the Nibelungs”, her eyes widened and she finished almost inaudibly: “I got this tattoo in honor of Brünnhilde”.

Kermit nodded in understanding, inwardly cursing the day he’d first crossed paths with Caine and his magnet for evil forces.

“Remind me”, he said simply. “I have not listened to Wagner for a while”.

“Actually, Wagner took some literary licenses with his opera”, Sarah said absentmindedly. “He based it off the Völsunga saga and the Norse Edda, mainly, but he also took some old folk Scandinavian tales and the _Nibelungenlied_ , the epic poem, and threw them into the mix. Anyway, the main gist is that Brünnhilde was a Valkyrie, sometimes portrayed as the favorite daughter of Odin, also known as Wotan; some others, as a shieldmaiden daughter to a High King, but mortal. She had been punished by Odin to sleep for eternity in a circle of fire for going against him in battle and favoring Sigmund instead of Hunding, as had been ordered by Fricka, Odin’s wife, who wanted Sigmund dead. Incidentally, Sigmund was Odin’s son as well, which is funny if you consider Sigmund would eventually father Siegfried, Brünnhilde’s knight in shining armor”, Kermit shivered against his will.

“So, while Brünnhilde sleeps forever, Sigmund still dies in battle after Odin shatters Sigmund’s magical sword, Nothung: given to him by Wotan in the first place. Wotan seems incredibly prone to tantrums in my opinion” Sarah observed. Kermit kissed her lightly, the lamp flickered and Sarah continued her tale:

“Sieglinde, Sigmund’s wife and twin sister, goes into premature labor in the woods after finding him in the throes of agony. Sigmund asks her to keep the shards of Nothung, because his son will someday wield a new and more powerful sword forged from the remains of Nothung. Sieglinde dies giving birth to Siegfried and he for a reason I forget right now, is adopted and raised by Mimir the dwarf.  He forged the sword Balmung with the fragments of Sigmund’s sword and asked Siegfried to kill Fafnir, the dragon who guarded the Ring of the Nibelungs, bathed himself in the dragon’s blood and became invincible (except for a small spot on his back covered by a leaf), killed Mimir because he tried to kill Siegfried first to seize the treasure of the Nibelungs, and went on slaying dragons and winning wars until he came across Brünnhilde’s ring of fire. Of course, he crossed it, kissed her awake and swore her eternal love, even giving her the Ring of the Nibelungs as proof of their betrothal. The thing with the stupid ring was that it sentenced the one who wore it to death, so guess how that turned up. So, Siegfried tells Brünnhilde he needs to avenge his father’s death and reclaim his kingdom, so that he can marry her and live happily ever after. In the sagas, it’s Brünnhilde the one who asks him to conquer his own kingdom because as a Valkyrie, she can only wed the best of the best. Never mind that she was his aunt in the first place and that Siegfried was actually the epitome of the Oedipus complex”.

Kermit swallowed hard, remembering what he’d thought not that long ago in his father’s cabin, when faced with the fact that he was falling for the daughter of his surrogate father.

“The thing is, Siegfried leaves the mead hall in search for more riches and glory,  Brünnhilde says, oh, sure, OK, honey, have fun, stay safe, don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here and wait forever” —Kermit chuckled—, “no, all jokes aside, she tells him to _avoid the abode of a witch-hearted woman._ But did he listen? Of course he didn’t.  So, off goes Sigmund and he arrives to the kingdom of Gunther, and this is where it gets interesting. Gunther has a half-brother, half human and half Nibelung, named Hagen, who hates Siegfried’s guts; well, actually, Hagen hates just about everybody, because that was the purpose of his siring, to harbor the hate of his father, the Nibelung Alberich, the original owner of the magic ring. Gunther also has a beautiful sister, Gudrun or Khriemhild, who falls for Siegfried and slips him a love potion, because, you know, that’s how you get a man”.  Kermit laughed, although the part about Gunther and his vile half-brother had put an icy hand around his heart.

“So Siegfried forgets Brünnhilde and marries Gudrun in a pompous wedding. Siegfried and Gunther swear an oath and become blood brothers, and _then_ Gunther tells Siegfried that there’s this maid he pines for, but that he needs Siegfried as his wingman to win her hand. Siegfried says _sure, bro, for you, anything!_ And so, they go back to Brünnhilde’s mead hall and Gunther tries to cross it, but fails, because he’s not worthy. So Siegfried dons his magic helmet, changes faces with Gunther, crosses the circle, conquers Brünnhilde _again_ and takes the ring from her, along with her vest, to give to his own wife. Lovely” Sarah said acidly. “So, since Brünnhilde was doomed to marry he who could cross the circle of fire, and now she had no ring to prove she was betrothed to Siegfried, she marries Gunther. But then, during the wedding feast, she sees Siegfried next to Gudrun and she realizes what happened. Since she’s a Valkyrie and not a common toad, she does not make a scene, but she plots her revenge”.

“You frighten me, Sweetcakes” Kermit said, only half-jokingly.

“Just wait”, Sarah said, “the best is yet to come. So, during a hunting party, Brünnhilde tells Hagen of Siegfried’s only weak point, so Hagen stabs Siegfried in the back with a spear. Brünnhilde curses pretty much everyone for framing her fate, and has Siegfried’s funeral pyre built, in which she is to perish as well, cleansing the ring of its curse and returning it to the Rhinemaidens. In the end, Gudrun exacts her revenge on Gunther and Hagen for Siegfried’s murder, waging a war that brought about Ragnarök”.

Kermit’s face had grown gloomier by the minute as Sarah recounted the opera and he found more underlying similarities to their current predicament than he liked. He sighed inwardly and considered how to begin his own tale, but Sarah spoke first:

“Gunnar Byrnison wouldn’t happen to have a sister, would he?” she said cheekily, trying to erase Kermit’s miserable expression from his face.

“Sweetcakes—” he managed to choke out.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want you to fall prey to the abode of a witch-hearted woman and leave this slightly pregnant Valkyrie for a deceitful princess, after all”.

Kermit managed a genuine smile.

“Not even if I was pulled apart limb from limb by a herd of Sleipnirs would I stray away from you”, he said solemnly. The lamp in the nightstand flickered again.

“The Horse of Odin” Sarah said, “you know your Norse Mythology, I am impressed. Incidentally, that is the single most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me”.

With a groan, Kermit ravaged her mouth with his own; he rolled Sarah over on her back and climbed on top of her, wriggling his lower body between her thighs, suddenly overcome by a desire so intense he feared he’d flare-up. His mouth wandered over her skin, nipping and licking impatiently, rubbing himself against her. His hands slid under her buttocks, drawing her to him desperately.

“Sarah—”, he breathed, voice raw, forgoing the moniker, “I— I need—”

She held him, roaming her hands over his back, pressing up to feel him, to meet him, to welcome him. His hand slid between her legs, working out her moisture. Sarah threw her head back on the pillows and moaned. The lamp went out and dimly, as if from far away, she heard the windows rattle.

Kermit entered her as he suckled at her collarbone, her breasts, her throat; he began to thrust into her with frantic abandon, moaning out of raw need, and Sarah met him thrust for thrust, unravelling her own desire until it shrouded them completely. She felt him battering at her cervix and that sent her hurling over the edge, screaming with the strength of her climax, a ringing in her ears almost deafening her momentarily.  She wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him closer, Kermit still moving inside her at increasing speed. He didn’t last much longer. With a final greedy thrust, he collapsed on top of her, panting exhaustedly, and he buried his head in her breasts, nuzzling them as he tried to get his wind back.

“ _Bravo!”_ Peter yelled from outside, banging loudly at their door. “Now, would you guys keep it _DOWN!?_ ALL THE GODDAMNED WINDOWS JUST EXPLODED!”

 

Kermit and Sarah burst into incontrollable cackles.

“Oh, so _that_ was the ringing in my ears!” Sarah chortled.

Kermit rolled off of her and she sat up on the bed. Indeed, the large windows of their bedroom had shattered to pieces, the gauze curtains flowing in the night breeze with eerie grace. Countless pieces of glass were scattered through the floor. Kermit got up swiftly, grabbed a sheet and displayed it over the shards, going back to Sarah’s side on the bed.

“We’ll pick them up tomorrow”, he said, and kissed the side of her neck. “Now, what were you saying before the rather enjoyable interlude?”

Sarah laughed.

“That’s the _leitmotiv”_ she giggled. “But then, you seemed extremely despondent just seconds before. In fact, I think _you_ were the one about to say something when I cracked my little joke”.

Kermit sobered up. He took a deep breath and then decided to just say it without preamble:

“Gunnar Byrnison had a half-brother, just as sanguinary as he was. He was Gunnar’s second in command, and more often than not, he performed the… _unsavory_ parts of the job. Gunnar didn’t like to get his hands caught in the mess.  He went by many names, although not a lot of people were privy to the details. One of such names was Hagen Völsung”.

Sarah inhaled sharply.

“Yes, exactly, Sweetcakes” Kermit said grimly. “I didn’t connect the dots until you reminded me of the story. After all, it’s hard to keep up with every nutjob we’ve run into… even with a memory like mine. Besides, they were supposed to be dead, so naturally, we scratched them off, two less dirtbags to worry about”, he finished bitterly. Sarah squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

“So, how’d you come across him?”

“Let’s see…” Kermit looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “It happened… oh, ten years ago, I think. Yes, it was one of our last missions before joining the Force… I wonder if Paul remembers... Anyway, we were hired by the Bundesnachrichtendiest—”

“ _Gesundheit!”_ Sarah said, making him laugh.

“That’s the German Federal Intelligence Service” Kermit clarified, “they hired us to track down Hagen —let’s just call him Hagen—, who had stolen a large quantity of jewels from a private collection. Among those jewels was a ring, which reputedly had belonged to Kaiser Wilhelm II himself”.

Sarah’s eyes widened.

“You see where this is going, don’t you, Sweetcakes?” Kermit said, “Indeed, the ring was said to be magic, but unlike the Hope Diamond and other cursed real pieces of jewelry, this ring was said to render its wearer invincible. Not unlike… the ring of the Nibelung. Or… the ring of Sauron”, he added, tracing the Tengwar markings inked into Sarah’s back, making her shiver in delight. The lamp next to him flickered: wolfish grin firmly in place, Kermit turned it off.

“Tolkien always denied he based his ring off of Wagner’s” Sarah’s voice came from the darkness.  “Similar as they both are”.

“Indeed”, Kermit said. “Anyway, Folklore has it that this particular ring was stolen from his Royal and Imperial Highness half way through WWI, and the theft unfolded the well-known events that lead to the Armistice and the emperor’s abdication. The ring kept resurfacing throughout history, and disappearing again every time things began to go awry.

» So, Hagen wanted this ring to unify some factions running amok in the Eastern Bloc, and we were hired to stop that from happening. And we succeeded… to an extent: the wall fell without a hitch two years later, we saved the world for democracy, Hagen was imprisoned… But we weren’t able to deliver the ring back to West Germany. It simply _disappeared_ , as it often did. Hagen must think we still have it”, Kermit added as an afterthought.

“So, you think Atherton allied himself with Gunnar to break Hagen out from prison, get the ring back and take revenge on Paul and you?” Sarah asked.

“And Rykker, and Callahan, as well. And Even Steadman. We were all involved in that mission. Not to mention the blood feud Atherton has against us… I mean, we did kill half his family”.

Sarah breathed in deeply, but didn’t comment on that, disturbing as she still found it. Instead, she asked:

“And what does Caine have to do with anything? Why did the monk say they wanted him?”

Kermit chuckled.

“Caine is the sea all rivers flow to, Sweetcakes”, he said. “All the roads lead to Caine. Don’t try to make any sense out of it, because there is none. I stopped trying long ago. I just… go along and play it by ear”.

“Yeah, remind me to do just that tomorrow when he teaches me how to harness my unbridled power”, Sarah muttered.

Kermit took her in his arms, rolled her over on her back and clambered on top of her.

“Oh, I can do that for you just fine, Sweetcakes!” he trumpeted merrily, and all the lightbulbs in their room exploded.

 


	14. Chapter 14

“I had forgotten about that”, Paul said quietly.

They sat at Rykker’s drawing room having tea and crumpets, while Caine, Peter and Sarah worked outside on harnessing her magic. Kermit, of course, had favored his usual strong coffee over the Brits’ national beverage and, as he drank his third cup, he gazed out the window to where the love of his life tried with all her might to maintain a Crane stance without keeling over. The sky was as gray as Sarah’s eyes, and a cold wind blew, but at least it didn’t look like snowing anytime soon.

Kermit had told the rest of the Dragonswing about his and Sarah’s latest theory concerning Gunnar and his half-brother, and now Rykker was pulling out old maps and encrypted telegrams from hidden drawers and he was thumbing through them methodically.

“You kept that stuff?” Kermit asked with an arched brow.

“I knew someday I’d have a use for it”. Rykker replied. “And, I was right. Here, go through these”, and he tossed a handful of frayed telegrams to Kermit. He sighed.

“Will you join us in the nineties, Rykker?” Kermit said derisively. He walked towards Rykker’s brand new PC, turned it on, plugged in a small device he extracted from his pocket and began to type. An hour later, Kermit had pinpointed the possible location of the ring, and he rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses tiredly. He gave another sigh and leaned back on the chair. Suddenly, Kermit sat up again, pressed a few keys and let out a string of guffaws.

“What, _what?”_ Rykker snapped.

“You are _not_ going to believe this”, said Kermit still cackling. It sounded a bit manic, even for him.

“We’re not going to believe what?” Peter asked from the threshold. He walked in, closely followed by Caine and Sarah, who looked quite pale; the sight of her sobered up Kermit immediately.

“Are you OK, Sweetcakes?” He asked.

Sarah nodded as she walked unsteadily towards the nearest chair. She slumped in it and closed her eyes.

“I’m fine”, she said, “just exhausted. Magic is not all that’s cracked up to be, I’ve found out. What were you saying, just then?”

“Oh, yes!” Kermit exclaimed. “I was saying you won’t believe the identity of our elusive Gollum. I know why they want you, Caine, they need you to take him out of the goddamned painting”, and Kermit laughed again, unable to help it.

“What’s he on about?” asked Katya, slightly annoyed. Peter shrugged, in a gesture eerily like his father’s.

“The ring thief is none other than George Vladpallin”, Kermit said, walking towards the service trolley to pour himself another cup of coffee.

 _“George?_ The Museum thief George? The one who got sucked into the painting during the ruckus?” Peter asked.

“One and the same”, Kermit agreed.

“I don’t believe this!”

“I told you”, Kermit snickered. He walked towards Sarah and handed her a cup of tea. “Lemon, one sugar, right?” he asked her, knowing he had got it right. “Warm up, Sweetcakes, you look dead on your feet”.

Sarah took the cup gratefully and managed a small sip. The nausea usually disappeared after a bout of magic, but for a first lesson, it had been particularly exhausting. She was having trouble just keeping her eyes open.  Kermit sat next to her on the armrest and drank from his cup before speaking again.

“So that’s that, ladies and gentlemen”, “he said. “This is what we’re up against. So… what’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Rykker repeated. “You’re not honestly suggesting we track them down, are you?”

“Well, it’s the most sensible course of action”, Katya said, “Offing them before they do us in!”

“You’re forgetting two of us are no longer mercenaries”, Paul pointed out quietly. “We can’t very well go about executing people, we must uphold the law”.

Katya rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“So, what, then?” she said.

“We… won’t have to look for them”, Caine observed calmly. “They… will find us when the time is right”.

“You know what? I am tired of this cryptic bullshit”, Katya said, standing up violently. “I am only here because my father asked me to, but I fail to see what I stand up to gain by protecting the magic princess from—”

“Your father was also involved” Kermit raised his deep bass voice above Katya’s shrilly rant before she said something he’d make her regret, “which means you’re targeted as well. But, you’ve spoken like a true mercenary, there’s nothing to be gained. Except, you know… your _fucking life_. So, if you want to walk out, be my guest”.

Katya stared at Kermit resentfully, but didn’t say anything else, sitting back down.

“Well, Sis, the Muppets won’t stand a chance against Daddy!” Peter exclaimed, “One tantrum and he’ll send them to Siberia!”

That made everyone laugh, and Katya grunted through her nose like a teenager.

“Do you always have to be the comic relief?” she grouched.

“She needs something else relieved”, Rykker muttered, but thankfully, Katya didn’t hear him.

“All right”, Sarah said. “So, let me sum it up for dummies, please, because I feel I can’t keep up: Atherton is the mastermind and he wants to kill us all because of a blood feud; Gunnar is the second in command and _he_ wants to kill us all because the Dragonswing stopped him from becoming the next Hitler; and Hagen is the executive brand and _he_ wants to kill us all because… it was the Dragonswing’s fault that he lost his Precious?”

Everyone chuckled but Katya.

“A bit simplified, but correct, in essence” said Rykker.

“And, since Caine says we won’t need to go find them… I have just one more question”, Sarah continued, “it’s nothing against Mr. Rykker’s hospitality, but, are we going to stay in London forever? I mean, I don’t know how personal time works at your Precinct, Dad, but I’d have thought a little over two months would be enough”.

Paul nodded thoughtfully.

“I actually was going to say I see no point in staying here… If anything, we’re closer to danger and we can’t have that. So, what say you, Rykker? Want to come over to the other side of the pond?”

Not even if you would drag me by the clackers over shards of hot metal”, Rykker said exquisitely. “No, I’ll stay in the civilized world if it’s all the same to you… I do have assorted business to attend to. But, worry not, I shall let you know whether more intel finds its way into my spider web”.

 

That settled it. Arranges were made to procure tickets back home for the whole party, and in a final grand gesture that failed to hide the reluctant affection Rykker had developed for his guests, he threw a magnificent farewell party, all complete with a six course banquet and a Masquerade Ball.

“He really likes to go out all the way, doesn’t he?” Sarah said thoughtfully, sipping at a glass of chilled water.

“Yeah, that’s Rykker”, Paul agreed. “How are you feeling, Sarah?”

“Awful, to tell you the truth”, Sarah replied, “Just don’t tell Kermit. He’s so thrilled about the babies I don’t have the heart to tell him I feel like I’m dying. This nausea is not in the least normal… It goes away for a while after I— you know… do ‘magic’” she made the quotes in the air with her fingers, “but then it comes back with a vengeance. I am constantly dehydrated and nothing stays with me. I feel faint every time I stand up. I can’t wait to get back home so I can get a proper check-up. But don’t get me wrong, I am very happy, Dad. It’s just that I never thought I’d feel this bad, physically. I mean, I do know pregnancy isn’t a walk in the park, but… I had kind of hoped to enjoy it a little”.

Paul nodded.

“You will, you’ll see”, he said, and he kissed her cheek. “Regretfully, Annie has no first-hand experience on the matter. But she will be thrilled to help, I am sure. I mean, they’re our first grandkids!” he finished with a dreamy smile that lit up his whole face. “Are you going back to the hospital?” he added, sheepishly.

“Well, if they take me back”, Sarah said. “After all, I did resign rather unexpectedly, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, sorry about that” chuckled Paul. “Do you know, I am still not sure what we accomplished by coming here?”

“Well, we found out who are we up against” Sarah replied. “And I got to get pregnant just when Caine wanted so I could fulfill my destiny; so, I guess we did accomplish _something_ after all”. Paul laughed at the sarcasm in her voice. She really was a match for Kermit.

“Want some more water, sweetie?” he asked, taking her glass.

“If you can find ice chips, I’ll dance with you, nausea and two left feet not withstanding”, Sarah said.

Laughing, Paul walked towards the buffet. Sarah remained seated away from the noise and closed her eyes briefly.

“If I could have a word, Miss Greene?” she heard Rykker’s voice say next to her.

“Oh! Um…certainly, Mr. Rykker” she replied hesitantly.

“You might find it hard to believe, but it has been my pleasure having you and your family as my guests”, Rykker began, “and you might find it harder to believe, but I happen to hold young Mr. Griffin in high regard. Yes, yes, I know you can’t tell from my jibes”, he added, when Sarah’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, “but I assure you I do. Which is why”, he said, pulling an exquisitely wrapped gift box from behind his back, “I wanted to give you this”.

Sarah took the proffered box and thanked Rykker politely.

“For the young Messrs. Griffin”, Rykker said, and he added, his voice a little hoarse: “Take good care of them, Miss Greene. A child is a precious gift, to be sure… but he can also be a great source of sorrow. What I wouldn’t give…” Rykker’s eyes darkened and he blinked rapidly. “To your good health”, he said, and he raised his glass in toast: “You’ve managed to earn my respect as well on your own merit, Miss Greene”.

Sarah stood up and curtsied the way her mother had taught her to do when she was a child, mentally praying she wouldn’t faint. She didn’t.

“Much obliged, Mr. Rykker”, she said. “You’ve also got my respect”.

“Liar” Rykker said gleefully and kissed her hand. He walked away elegantly and soon he was lost in the crowd.

“What was that all about?” Kermit said, suddenly materializing next to Sarah, bearing a glass with ice chips, looking incredibly dashing in a rental tux and a freshly groomed salt-and-pepper beard, which he had been growing for the past weeks.

“Oh, just Rykker being Rykker”, Sarah said.

“I see. Well! I am told this glass of ice chips will earn me a dance with you so, cough up, Sweetcakes. You still owe me a dance under the moonlight”.

“But I don’t—”

“Dance, I know”.

Kermit took Sarah’s hand and led her away from the party, through one of the adjourning rooms, where he deposited the box Rykker had given her and the glass of ice chips. They went out on the balcony and Kermit stopped in his tracks for a second. There was indeed a bright full moon shining above them, and a cold wind howled with a mind of its own.

 _“Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya…”_ he hummed softly. He gathered Sarah into his arms and drew her close to him, dancing slowly to the music that travelled all the way from the main hall. He ran his fingers through her hair, which she had let down in all its glossy glory for the occasion. He tucked her head under his chin and held her to him as they moved in tandem with the music.

“I love you”, he heard her whisper, and he felt suddenly overcome by emotion.

“I love you too, Sweetcakes”, he replied. “It’s scary, sometimes”.

“What is? Love?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been on my own for so long… I’d schooled myself not to feel, not to care, not to get involved anymore. _Cliché_ as it sounds… I had lost so much already I just didn’t think it was worth the risk”.

Sarah nodded against his chest in understanding.

“My parents… my brother… my children… Laurie…” his voice trembled slightly and Sarah hugged him tightly. “I just— after that, I—” he took a deep breath, “well, like the Godfather of Gloom so rightly says, after all that, I realized all I had ever learned, not just from love, but from life, was how to shoot somebody who outdrew me. And I don’t mean that only in the metaphorical sense of the word. I _can’t_ lose you, Sarah, or the Muppets. If I do… Well, I might revert to something very dark… And I might not come back from it”.

“You won’t lose us”, Sarah said reassuringly. “And you won’t revert back to anything dark, because you’re not dark in the first place” she held up a hand when she saw he was about to argue: “no, you listen to me: I know you did terrible things, things you regret to this day. But you’re not evil, you’re not a sociopath. You are a deeply empathic man, with a very high code of ethics, you’re fiercely loyal, you’re a gentleman, and your heart is in the right place”.

“You forgot devastatingly handsome and great in bed”, Kermit said cheekily, to hide his emotional reaction to Sarah’s little speech.

“Oh, that goes without saying, Siegfried”, Sarah replied and kissed him fully on the mouth. “That beard or yours makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, you look amazing”, she smiled when she saw him blush. “Oh, and, if I may be so bold... I would like to change your Leonard Cohen’s mental soundtrack a bit”, Sarah added, her eyes glittering with something Kermit couldn’t quite fathom. She smiled seductively, put her arms around his neck and broke into song next to his ear, managing a raspy, jazzy and high-pitched voice, oddly reminiscent of Eileen Farrell's:

_“_ _Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin,_ _  
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in;_ _  
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove,_  
Dance me to the end of love…”

 

  Feeling elated, Kermit hugged her by the waist, lifted her off her feet and proceeded to do just that, spinning around together and just enjoying what love had to offer them. Sarah laughed and let him do a couple rounds, but then she warned him:

“I’d stop if I were you, Handsome, unless you want me to reenact the most famous scene from the Exorcist all over your rental tux”.

Kermit chuckled but stopped, depositing her safely on the ground. He kissed her again just because he could do it, and he said:

“I want you to be careful. I know I can’t keep you in a bubble…”

“Not for lack of trying…” Sarah interjected. Kermit kissed her cheek and added:

“No, but seriously, now: up until tonight, we’ve been semi-secluded and almost living in a fairy tale—”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. Somehow, cars exploding, people getting shot and butlers being possessed by evil shadows didn’t _quite fit_ in her idea of a fairy tale.

“Well, you know what I mean” Kermit said, catching on, “the point is, things are going to be different once we return to our daily lives”.

Sarah decoded the question hidden in the statement.

“Nothing will change between us”, she assured him. “We’ll just be a couple who did things a little too quickly, took two steps at a time and now has to stock up on diapers”.

Kermit laughed again, feeling inwardly relieved. He put a hand to her belly and held her to him with his other arm.

“Thank you, Sweetcakes”, he said. They both knew what he meant. “Oh, and that reminds me, we’ll need to get a bigger place. There isn’t room to swing a cat in my apartment and yours can’t be much bigger”.

“Oh, I thought we’d be living with Skalany?” Sarah said irreverently and Kermit snickered with her. That seemed like another lifetime ago.

“What did Rykker give you?” he asked when he sobered up.

“I don’t know”, Sarah said, “he said it was for the babies. Let’s find out”.

They returned to the spacious room and Sarah took the box from the mantelpiece. She opened it carefully so that the beautiful wrapping paper wouldn’t tear, and took out two small objects wrapped in a silk handkerchief. She undid the bundle and revealed two Edwardian style baby rattles made of silver. The name “Edward” was engraved in the rattles, hardly visible, as if it had been done years ago. She heard Kermit’s sharp intake of breath and looked at him wonderingly.

“I’ll be damned…Those belonged to Rykker’s son”, he said in awe. “I don’t believe it”.

“Why, what happened?”

“Rykker’s son Edward was killed by a mercenary more than forty years ago”, Kermit explained, still stunned. “He was just a child… no more than six years old at the time, and he was… Rykker’s moon and stars. Rykker went insane when the boy died… searched high and low for his killer… Actually, even Caine joined the manhunt, from what I understand. Rykker eventually found him and killed him, but he had lost everything he held dear by then. So… he became… who he is. As we all did”.

Kermit saw a tear roll down Sarah’s cheek and wiped it gently with his thumb.  He held her close to him and rocked her as she wept, knowing the depths of Rykker’s pain all too well, and knowing that she knew that, too. He heard something tinkle on the floor next to him and, without relinquishing his hold on Sarah, he used his foot to catch it and lift it so he could grab it.

“You’ve made quite an impression on him, Sweetcakes”, he said, showing her the object. “This was in the box as well”.

It was a heavy Victorian locket. Sarah pried it open and found a picture of her and _High Admiral_ , along with what it looked like a lock of the stallion’s mane. There was something engraved on the inside of the gold cover, and Sarah walked towards the nearest lamp to see it better. She smiled through her tears and showed it to Kermit.

_Ride, Brünnhilde,_ it said simply.

 

With quick movements, Sarah put the gifts back in the box and strode swiftly towards the Ball Room, where the party was still going strong. She located Rykker standing next to Paul, handing him another drink, and she walked briskly in their direction. Without further ado, she threw her arms around Rykker and thanked him amid a fresh cascade of tears. Rykker returned the embrace awkwardly, blinking rapidly to get rid of the moisture in his own eyes. All the lights in the hall wavered.

 

“You are… at peace at last”, Caine said to Rykker as the lights went on again.


	15. Chapter 15

The return to Sloanville went off almost without a hitch. Sarah only had to use two sick bags (to her infinite embarrassment), and she managed to sleep for most of the trip, under Kermit’s watchful eye; he found that he was beginning to like his new, more domesticated role more and more.

Todd McCall, Lyn’s husband, had gone to the airport to pick them all up, and he took the news about his new half-sister-in-law with the indifference akin to lawyers; nobody made a mention of Sarah’s pregnancy, which suited her just fine. Todd dropped Kermit and Sarah off at her place before taking his in-laws to their own home, and they said their emotional goodbyes with promises of family gatherings and big holidays together to come. Caine and Peter went off with Todd and the Blaisdells, as Peter had left his Stealth parked at his foster family’s garage.

 

Skalany dropped by Sarah’s place a few hours later, completely recovered from her surgery, and bringing Bailey with her. The dog jumped to Sarah’s lap the minute he saw her and showered with kisses and howls. He sniffed at her insistently, and without further ado, he settled on the couch next to Sarah, with his snout firmly pressed against her midriff. Sarah scratched the dog’s head, still wiping the aftermath of their tearful reunion from her cheeks, apparently unable to stop the waterworks. Skalany eyed her thoughtfully:

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you”, she said. It wasn’t a question.

“How’d you— oh, never mind…” Sarah said, crying harder than ever, holding onto Bailey for dear life. Kermit returned from the kitchen bearing some drinks, and putting the tray aside, he sat on Sarah’s other side and circled her shoulders with his arms to comfort her. Eventually, Sarah’s sobs subsided and she relaxed her grip on Bailey, who got off the couch to get a drink of water; but he returned swiftly to Sarah’s side, bringing his favorite chew toy with him, which he insistently pushed to her midriff. That got Sarah going again.

“Aw, Bailey!” she said. “That’s going to take a while!”

Kermit smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“You’re knackered and jet-lagged, Sweetcakes”, he told her softly. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

Sarah nodded in assent.

“Yes, I believe I should”, she said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bawl on you guys like that…” she added, even as her eyes filled with tears again.

“Sweetcakes, you’re entitled”, Kermit said. “You’ve been through a lot”.

Skalany looked at Kermit in mute inquiry, but he didn’t elaborate. Sarah got up from the couch and hugged Skalany warmly.

“Thank you for everything, Mary Margaret”, she said. “Let me just get settled and I’ll cook you dinner, I mean it”.

“That’s a date, then!” Skalany said, smiling. “Wait! Can I tell Jody about the—” she pointed at Sarah’s midsection, not finishing the sentence. Sarah nodded.

“Sure you can. And bring her to dinner as well. I’ll call you! Thank you so much again”.

She turned to Kermit and kissed him lovingly; Kermit returned the kiss without a trace of self-consciousness, as if Skalany wasn’t in the room, watching them in awe.

“Don’t be long”, Sarah whispered, caressing his bearded cheek softly.

 

Kermit and Skalany watched Sarah disappear behind her bedroom door, closely followed by Bailey. As soon as the door closed, Skalany turned to Kermit with a mischievous grin:

“Holy shit, Kermit!” she exclaimed, “congratulations! How far along is she?”

“Thank you. A little over six weeks. They’re twins”, Kermit added as an afterthought and then had to cover Skalany’s mouth with his hand to keep her from bringing down the walls with her shrieks.

 _“SHHHHH!”_ he hissed. “You’ll wake her! Listen, Mary Margaret, I need to ask you a favor… Could you stay here with her while I go and run some errands? I don’t want to leave her alone, but she _does_ need to rest. These past two months have been action-packed, and she’s handled it like a champ so far, but I definitely don’t want her to reach breaking point, especially not in her condition”.

Skalany nodded sympathetically.

“So… what happened?” she asked, not expecting that Kermit would actually tell her. But he did, giving her a very succinct account of their two-month stay in London, avoiding to mention some of the supernatural events that directly involved Sarah and the twins, giving Skalany the idea that they were still targeted by a vengeful mercenary, but leaving it at that.

“I know there is something you’re not telling me”, Skalany said, and Kermit cursed inwardly. He’d momentarily forgotten Skalany and Caine were an item.

“Mary Margaret… I just— the less people in danger, the better”, Kermit said at last, “I mean, you got shot already because of this mess. Please, just stay with her for a few hours. I shan’t be long”.

 

 

Kermit made an uneventful trip to his own apartment to retrieve a few basic items. He let his gaze roam the familiar walls of the place he’d lived in (alone for the most part), for the last ten years, and he was surprised when he didn’t feel anything at the thought of leaving it for good. That apartment had just been a shell for him to dwell in when he wasn’t otherwise engaged, and it held no sentimental value to him. Unlike—

He cut his train of thought ruthlessly and walked over to his land line. He dialed a number he knew by heart and waited for his sister to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Marilyn”, he spoke briskly. “I need your help”.

“Well, hello to you too” his sister chided him from the other side of the line. “Say that again? _You_ need _my_ help with something?”

“Yes, Sis, I do. Listen, how soon do you think I could move into Brookside?”

 _“You_ want to go back to our parents’ house?” Marilyn said incredulously, “I seem to recall you storming out once and saying you never wanted to set foot in it ever again”.

“Never mind that now”, Kermit said dismissively: “How soon?”

Marilyn knew that tone all too well, so she didn’t press the issue.

“Well, I don’t know for sure…” she mused. “It’s in fairly good condition for such an old building… The caretaker calls me when something needs fixing, so I usually just take money out of the trustfund and have it done... No problems on that account, but I am guessing it’d need a thorough scouring before anyone can live there, and maybe some new furniture…. The mattresses were all but decomposing last time I was there…. so… I’d say, a month? Working around the clock?”

“Could you handle it?” Kermit said charmingly and Marilyn could hear his grin through miles of phone lines.

“Kermit Griffin”, she said sternly, “what the hell is going on? And don’t try to wriggle out of it, give it to me straight for once. If this is another half-assed attempt at getting even for David’s murder, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Kermit let her finish her rant and then spoke:

“It’s— nothing of the sort, Marilyn. I’ve made my peace with David’s death. You should know, after all, you sent Caine and Peter after me to stop me from murdering Larson”.

“I didn’t _send_ them, they went because they’re your friends and they care about you”.

“I know. Well, anyway, I just— I need a bigger place, is all”, Kermit returned to their previous subject.

“Oh? What for?”

“Marilyn!” Kermit exclaimed impatiently, “can’t you just do as I ask?”

“When have I ever?” replied Marilyn cheekily, and then it finally clicked into place: “Oh.My.God. You’ve met someone, haven’t you? Oh, God, Kermit, who did you run off with and marry this time without telling _me?”_

Kermit snorted.

“I haven’t married her”, he said, “not yet, anyway. But, yes, I met someone”.

 _“Aaaaaand?!”_ Marilyn screeched, sounding more like her teenage daughter Mitch than a respectable mother of three.

“And I need a bigger place”, Kermit retorted and smiled to himself. “I am not telling you anything else unless you help me”.

“Oh, _all right”_ Marilyn said. “You’re no fun. When can I meet her? I can have you two for dinner next week”.

“That would be lovely”, Kermit accepted, “as long as you don’t call Peter or Paul to try and worm information out of them”.

Marilyn sniffed.

“You’re no fun”, she said again. “All right, then, I’ll get to it immediately. See you next week! Bring some wine, I am all out. Oh, and say hi to her for me! What _is_ her name, anyway?”

“Will do”, Kermit replied. “Her name is Sarah. Thank you, Marilyn. Kiss the kids for me”, said Kermit and hung up.

“Well, there’s that taken care of”, Kermit said to himself, rubbing his hands together. “Now, as for the important things…”

 

And he opened a safe hidden behind a painting, took out a couple of gun clips still stored there, a thick wad of money and a small key. Pocketing them, he grabbed the suitcases he’d packed and left the place that had been his home without looking back.

 

≈§≈

 

Things slowly got back on track during the following weeks. Kermit had resumed his post as Geek in chief at the 101st, Sarah had been rehired at County General, and they were indeed adjusting to being a couple with normal work schedules, high tempers, a penchant for sarcasm and a lot of annoying quirks on both parts, but so far, they had managed to deal with minor frictions swimmingly; Sarah had only blasted off half the dishware once during a row, and Kermit had curbed his tendency to walk off in the middle of the argument leaving Sarah to seethe by herself. And, if they were honest with themselves, sometimes they’d pick up a fight just for the make-up sex, because it was nothing short of amazing; even earning them a couple of passive-aggressive notes from the neighbors under their door, asking them to keep it down.

“Soon we won’t have to worry about that”, Kermit said cryptically one night, tearing off the latest note in half, delivered amidst angry pounds at their door, after a distinctively raucous bedroom rodeo. He had tossed the remains of the note theatrically as if they were confetti and climbed back into bed with Sarah, where he proceeded to love her so ardently he’d half expected a couple of homicide detectives to swing by and investigate a suspected murder.

 

 

Sarah had met Marilyn and her children at The Gables, the old stone house two hours away from the city where they lived. Marilyn’s second husband was away on business, and Jason, Marilyn’s oldest son, had just started College in Boston, but that didn’t deter Kermit’s sister in the slightest: and after Jossie, her two year old daughter was put to bed, she delivered a wonderfully cooked dinner to regale her brother and his new girlfriend.  Kermit had tried to keep Sarah’s pregnancy a secret —he suspected Marilyn might just _explode_ with delight if she found out, and he was sure that Mitch, his angsty teenage niece, would flip out _—,_ but Sarah had been afflicted with a particularly nasty spell of nausea all through the week and, after her third galloping trip to the bathroom and her sheer inability to keep down the smallest bite, the cat was out of the bag.

“Kermit, why the hell didn’t you _tell me!?_ ” Marilyn sounded deeply embarrassed and most of all, concerned. “This is _way_ too spicy for her, I should have known, I can’t believe it… I am so very sorry!”

“Oh, no, no… Please, Marilyn, don’t worry” Sarah appeased her, “usually, I survive on saltines and mineral water… Pregnancy has been my most effective diet ever!” she added, wiping a few beads of sweat from her pale forehead. “And don’t get me started on the bouts of sweat and dizziness… Oh, it’s a joy!”

Marilyn nodded enthusiastically in assent.

“Have you started hating Kermit’s cologne?” she asked, “when I was pregnant with Jossie I could not stand the smell of my husband! And I couldn’t have tolerated that beard!” she finished, pointing at Kermit’s thick beard.

“John had to sleep on the couch for like six months”, Mitch supplied gleefully, “or Mom here turned into that girl from the Exorcist!”

Sarah looked at Kermit warmly.

“No... I absolutely love his beard. And the way he smells”, she said softly, and the lights in the dining room flickered. Kermit grinned devilishly and leaned over to kiss her cheek, making a good show of rubbing his beard against her face. The lights shimmered again, Sarah jumped slightly on her seat, and Mitch had to dive under the table to hide her nervous giggles. She had _never_ seen her uncle act like that.

“Don’t mind the lights” Marilyn said, mistakenly thinking Sarah had been startled by the wavering lights, “this house used to be haunted, isn’t that right, Kermit? Until Caine helped us get rid of the… demons”.

“Uh?” said Kermit, snapping out of a very vivid fantasy involving Sarah, soft silk restraints and a tube of ice cream. “Oh, yeah, that’s exactly right”.

“How is Caine these days?” asked Marilyn, not fooled at all.

“Oh, you know, he is… his usual self”.

“You should have brought him”, Mitch said, “He’s awesome”.

Caine and Mitch had hit it off during the house’s exorcism, Caine getting through the grieving girl who hid the sorrow for her father’s loss by trying to morph into the murdered girl who haunted her house. He had been of help again a couple of years later, when Jossie had been born and Mitch had had a complete melt down, going full-on Olivia de Havilland on her baby sister; with that background, Kermit had feared Mitch would react badly to Sarah’s pregnancy, but so far, she seemed OK with the news.

“Neat!” she’d said, “Jossie will have someone to play with and I’ll babysit, Uncle Kermit, I promise!” she said charmingly, “but you need to pay me, though, I am saving to get a tattoo when I am older”.

“You’re _not_ getting a tattoo, young lady”, said Marilyn sternly. It sounded like an argument the two of them had had a thousand times already.

“Try and stop me!” Mitch said, the pugnacious setting of her jaw reminding Sarah strongly of Kermit, “I’ll get one when I’m eighteen and there’s nothing you can do about that”.

Marilyn sighed in defeat.

“What’s a mother to do?” she said, “I don’t mind tattoos, actually, but what if she gets a disease?”

“Well, if it helps…” Sarah said, glancing at Kermit dubiously, not knowing if she’d make things worse by putting in her two cents. Kermit nodded, indicating she should go ahead: “I could take her to a respectable place. That’s where, uh— I get mine done”, Sarah finished, fearing Marilyn would flip. She raised an eyebrow but made a move for Sarah to continue: “I did wait until I was of age to get my first one, though”, Sarah addressed Mitch this time: “My parents weren’t too keen on the idea, either… but they came around”.

“YOU HAVE TATTOOS?” yelled Mitch delightedly, “wow, Uncle Kermit, your girlfriend is _cool!_ Can I see them?”

“Sure”, Sarah said and showed her the most visible ones, on the ankle and shoulder. “I’ve got more, but showing them to you here would not be appropriate dinner etiquette”, she added. But that had been enough for Mitch; from that moment on, she decided that Sarah was her new best friend.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, I would be more at ease knowing she’s gone to a good place to get it”, Marilyn said. “She still has to do a couple of years of waiting, let’s see if she changes her mind”.

Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her that people who wanted to have tattoos at Mitch’s tender age seldom changed their minds.

“I _can’t_ wait for the baby to be born”, Mitch was saying happily, “I will babysit _all_ the time!”

“I’ll hold you to that”, Kermit admonished her with a smile.

“When are you due, Sarah?” Marilyn asked.

“Last week of November, give or take a couple days”, Sarah replied.

“Oh, you still have a lot to look forward too!” Marilyn giggled. “Swollen feet, back ache, hyperactive bladder, heartburn…”

“Marilyn…” Kermit said warningly. “She is a doctor, she knows what to expect”.

“Oh, no, trust me! It isn’t the same to read about it than going through it”, Sarah said. “Never in my life did I imagine morning sickness would be nothing more than a fleeting discomfort… I’m like two steps away from hyperemesis gravidarum!”

Both women laughed.

“Oh, and don’t you worry about getting a crib or a stroller”, Marilyn added as an afterthought, “I have all of Jossie’s stuff stored away”.

“Thank you, that is very kind of you”, Sarah said, “but—”

“The thing is… we are going to need two of each”, Kermit finished, grinning.

“Two of— oh, my GOD! You’re having twins?” Marilyn screeched in delight.

“Mooooom! Keep it down, you’ll wake the ghosts! _And_ Jossie!”

 

Marilyn was positively bubbling in her seat like a cork in fizzy water. She offered and emotional toast to her brother, to Sarah and the twins, and offered to help Sarah in any way that she could.

“If they take after Kermit they will be a _handful_ , believe you me”, she said conspiratorially: “My eldest is Kermit’s spitting image and, after my first husband died, he went through this _phase…_ I just wanted to rip out my hair in despair” Marilyn assured Sarah, “I was sure I was going to wake up one day and find that Jason had run off to join the CIA like Kermit did”.

“Jason is a good kid”, Kermit said in defense of his nephew.

“Yes, well, so are you, you just don’t want anyone to find out” Sarah said, and it was her turn to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Boy, does she have you pegged!” Marilyn cheered.

 

Dinner ended amid laughter and chatter, and Kermit stood up to say goodbye to his sister before Sarah would fall asleep on her feet. Marilyn hugged her warmly once more before Sarah got into the Kermitmobile.

“Thank you”, she whispered into her ear with a trembling voice, “for seeing the best in him, for… making him so happy”.

“There is no need to thank me”, Sarah said, hugging Marilyn back, “he does the same for me”.

Marilyn then called Kermit aside to hug him goodbye.

“Take care, big brother”, she said. “Oh and… here. I am sure you’ll need this”, she added, and handed him a small key, watching him pocket it with a knowing look.

Marilyn waited outside her door until the tail lights of the Kermitmobile were no longer visible, and then walked back inside with a huge grin on her face


	16. Chapter 16

Sarah’s belly grew incredibly fast as the time passed.  She was a little over twenty weeks along with the pregnancy and everybody was all of a dither. Annie and Marilyn fussed around Sarah as mother hens in chief, and Marilyn had busied herself on knitting enough baby jumpers to dress a dozen babies for a year. Skalany and Jody were Sarah’s permanent companions, when they were not on call, mainly because they just couldn’t keep away from the beckoning of the Gravid Uterus, but also because Kermit wanted Sarah accompanied at all times, so he had spent more than one afternoon drinking coffee while the women had tea, trying to pick baby names, browsing through maternity magazines to decide which color would best suit the nursery and feeling helplessly domestic, but not caring.

To Kermit, Sarah looked radiant. She had started to waddle, to grunt every time she sat down, to hold her aching back and to spend the other half of the day in the bathroom to boot, now peeing every fifteen minutes as well as vomiting, but the smudges under her eyes had faded, she smiled rather often, both to herself and to him, and she hummed happily all day long. She slept quite a bit as well, and whenever Kermit had a day off, he’d usually join her in bed, working from his laptop while she napped, and enjoying tremendously the feel of her rounded tummy pressed against him.

 

Sarah had finally gotten around to calling her adoptive parents in Switzerland, fearing that someone would see her on the street and would take it upon themselves to tell them before she did. She managed to leave out most of the details, simply telling her parents she had found Paul and his family and that she had met someone with whom she was currently living. She decided to leave the pregnancy out of the briefing after her mother’s wail traveled through miles of phone lines all the way from Switzerland to pierce Sarah’s eardrums, asking her how _dared_ she live with a man out of wedlock, what the hell was she _thinking,_ what would _people say!_ She had tried to question Sarah further, but after that first reaction Sarah closed up and ended the telephone call tensely.

Kermit had found her crying that night when he returned home from work, and even as he rocked her consolingly in his arms while she told him what had happened, he privately thought he’d tear his mother-in-law a new one if she ever dared to do this to Sarah again.

 

All in all, things seemed to be looking up. The moving had gone off without a hitch, and not two months had passed since they were finally, almost fully installed in Brookside, a large pearl-and-puce Eastlake Victorian house amidst the woods, built next to a creek which had earned it its name. Paul, Peter and even Caine had dropped by to help Kermit with some minor repairs during the weekends, and Paul had singlehandedly taken over the task of crafting what it seemed like all of the nursery’s furniture, including a huge, exquisitely carved crib for the twins to share; when he saw it, Peter had said in awe that the Muppets might just accomplish what no one else had, which was making Paul retire and become a full time Grandpa.

Sarah swung by Caine’s apothecary every afternoon after her shift ended to carry on with her “harnessing lessons”, as she called them; Caine and Lo Si always had a new herb or tea to try and curb Sarah’s ever-present nausea, but nothing seemed to work; not yoga, not Kung Fu basics, not the harnessing that had Sarah moving her arms like a windmill in an effort to control her surges of magic, not even the mild antiemetic medication that Sarah had procured from her appointed OB/Gyn; nothing made a difference, and Sarah still spent most of her days chewing on saltines and drinking very small sips of chilled mineral water; and bolting to the bathroom whenever she caught a whiff of anything cooked, baked, grilled or smoked. She still liked to cook because she insisted that at least Kermit should be able to eat a homemade meal when he returned from work, but she had taken to do it wearing a snorkel mask, so that she wouldn’t smell what she was cooking. Kermit howled with laughter whenever he saw her, inwardly deeply touched by her considerations to him.

 

Paul and Annie had thrown Sarah a surprise birthday party/early baby shower in the middle of June; practically everyone from the precinct had been in attendance, along with Marilyn, Mitch and Jossie, the Blaisdell sisters, and of course, Caine and Lo Si, who handled the catering, because he was just meddlesome like that.

“When one is so old, one can do whatever one wishes”, he’d told Sarah sneakily.  

 

Chief Streinlich had ogled at Kermit in utter amazement, going steadily red in the face at the sight of him playing airplane with his baby niece, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Sarah along with everyone else, or simply hovering around her to make sure everything was all right.

“That’s not Kermit”, he’d grouched after witnessing the couple sharing a tender moment, momentarily oblivious to the rest of the party; Kermit had a hand to Sarah’s belly and was trying to feed her small bites of Jell-O, while they looked at each other as if the sun rose and set on one another.  Chief Streinlich had to admit to himself that he was slightly jealous.

“On… the contrary”, said Caine, materializing next to Chief Streinlich, and making him choke on his beer, “ _that_ is Kermit. Sarah… just… helped him to...  finally let his true self out”.

After the cake, Paul insisted that Sarah should open one of his presents; Sarah complied and opened the gift box, which contained a small black pistol with a pearl handle. Sarah looked up at Paul questioningly.

“It’s a Baby Glock, sweetie”, Paul replied with his crooked smile, “small… but powerful. It belonged to your—” he stopped himself because the entire Precinct’s eyes were on him; “well, just think of it as a family heirloom. And, while you’re at it, learn how to use it”.

“I don’t—” Sarah began, but Paul held up a hand.

“I know, just… humor me, won’t you? You belong to a cop family, your h— Kermit is also a detective, you ought to know how to handle yourself around a gun” Paul finished, not believing how close he had come to say ‘husband’ when referring to Kermit.

“I’ll teach her”, Kermit stepped in smoothly, “we’d already talked about it, hadn’t we, Sweetcakes?” he addressed her, “and I seem to recall you’d agreed”.

 

Defeated, Sarah gave in and accepted Paul’s strange gift, not really wishing to ruin the wonderful party by arguing about something that, though she might not fully agree with, could mean the difference between life and death for her and the babies if such a circumstance arose. She would learn how to shoot, she decided. It wasn’t as if they were asking her to shoot baby squirrels, after all.

 

Kermit had been true to his word and, every Sunday, they could be seen at the shooting range, where, under his guidance, it soon transpired that Sarah wasn’t half bad at it after all, once she got the hang of the basics. Of course, she’d never reach Kermit’s level of accuracy —she never failed to marvel at the sight of him making a perfect bullseye every time, one-handed and keeping the gun insanely low—, but she could certainly blow off an assailant’s kneecap if all else failed.

Everything was back to normal, if such a notion could apply to them, but Kermit did not make the mistake of letting his guard down. He singlehandedly designed and installed a top-of-the-art alarm system in Brookside, paying special attention to the security surrounding the nursery. He hardwired the alarm to both his cellphone and the precinct, timing the responses until he got them down to two minutes and forty-five seconds; it didn’t matter whether Sarah needed a pint of ice-cream or went into labor, Kermit made sure help was available to her at the touch of a finger, 24/7. He didn’t want another Hawaii, thank you very much.

 

Rykker had phoned once to inquire after Sarah’s health and to see whether Kermit was willing to use his spare time to hack into a third party’s system and thus extracting some delicate information pertaining Straker, an old mercenary whose name had been popping out every now and then with regards to Atherton and Gunnar the Berserk.

Kermit did so reluctantly. Straker had held him, his friend Alan “Mac” Mackenzie _and_ his long lost son Major Jim Hellstrom captive at his Vermont compound a couple of years ago, and though they had managed to escape —with Peter and Caine’s help, of course—, a dormant threat had remained between the two men, who had never looked eye to eye in the best of circumstances.

“You’re a killer!” Straker had said, mocking Kermit’s disgust at his operation, “what, your old mercenary soul has been redeemed… by _what?_ I’ve never known you to care about anybody… not even yourself!”

Straker had continued taunting him, but Kermit didn’t react until he’d called Blaisdell a traitor and a coward: that was the closest Kermit came to ripping Straker’s head off.

“Go ahead, Kermit, go for it!” Straker had said challenging him, but with the smallest glint of fear in his beady eyes. He knew what Kermit was capable of, after all. Kermit had managed to reign in his impulses and replied tensely:

“Mind if I choose the moment?”

 

And that had been that… for the time being.  Later on, Mac had asked Kermit whether he intended to go in Straker’s pursuit, and Kermit had replied he had no doubt their paths would cross again. Of course, _now_ that Kermit’s old mercenary soul had indeed been redeemed by Sarah and their children, he had _very powerful_ reasons to try and keep away from Straker at all costs: Straker wouldn’t think twice about hurting them —and badly—, to get at him.

“Nothing definite has come up, Rykker”, Kermit said on the phone after a whole evening of efforts. “He keeps popping up, sure, but Straker isn’t stupid. He knows how to cover his tracks, that’s what he _does,_ after all”.

“You found his compound, didn’t you? Try harder, Griffin, there is a lot at stake here” Rykker replied unmoved.

“Like I didn’t know that already”, Kermit grumbled, and redoubled his efforts.

 

And his heart sank.

 

“He’s here, Rykker”, he said hoarsely when he regained the power of speech; “he’s here in Sloanville. It _can’t_ be a coincidence”.

“Of course it bloody well isn’t”, Rykker snapped. “Katya left London yesterday. She should be expected to land on your quaint little city any minute now. I suggest you hire her as your housekeeper or whatever takes your fancy so that she can keep an eye on Sarah”.

“Oh, she’ll be _thrilled”_ , Kermit said scathingly, “do you know what she calls Katya? Kalashnikov Tinkerbell”.

Rykker roared with laughter.

“Oh, that little lady of yours is something else! I tell you, if I wasn’t so blooming old—” Rykker stopped himself before Kermit managed to rip his head off through the telephone: “well, she is a sensible woman, isn’t she? She’ll come around and see it’s for the best”.

Kermit seriously doubted it. Katya had come to harbor some grudging respect for Sarah after her displays of magic, but there was definitely no love between the two, and Sarah always gave as good as she got. Kermit hung up the phone with an increasing sense of foreboding, and left the spacious room he had arranged as his study, walking towards the half-finished nursery without really thinking where he was going, enveloped as he was in a spiral of gloominess.

Sarah had had the room painted in pale green: —a none too subtle nod to him, he was sure—, and had focused the décor around softened versions of assorted baby animals. Kermit had absolutely banned teddy bears, unable to suppress the image of the charred blue stuffed bear among the wreckage of his Hawaiian house (he was sure that image would haunt him to his grave), and so, Sarah, Marilyn and Annie had put together a motley collection of big-eyed tigers, cute little baby monkeys, pliable orange and pink giraffes, dogs of all colors and sizes and, of course, a small gathering of Kermits, occupying the place of honor on top of the mantelpiece. Kermit took one of the stuffed frogs and sat down in a rocking chair.

“You are… worried”, a calm, mellow voice spoke from the shadows.

Kermit jumped almost imperceptibly.

“Caine”, he hissed, “you startled me”.

“I am… sorry”, Caine said, shrugging, “but, I needed to see you”.

Kermit was about to ask him why couldn’t he have called like a normal person instead of materializing out of thin air in the middle of the nursery but thought better of it. This was Caine, after all.

“Why didn’t the alarm go off?” Kermit asked instead, but then he smacked himself in annoyance. It was Caine he was talking with. He could walk through walls; _of course_ he could also dodge Kermit’s alarm system.

“What happened, Caine?” Kermit sighed.

“Mr. Blythe… went to see me. He… noticed something odd in the seals… of…”

“Cheng Cheng Kung’s exhibit”, Kermit finished bitterly.

“That… is correct”, Caine said. “The painting… to which George was accidentally vanished… is missing”.

“But that doesn’t make sense”, Kermit said, frowning. “I thought they needed you to get him out!”

Caine shrugged again.

“Perhaps… Gunnar has found… another way?” he offered.

“This is absurd”, Kermit said, concealing his anguish with anger. “Will we ever lead a peaceful life?”

 

But he didn’t get to hear Caine’s answer, because at that very minute, half a dozen masked men crashed through the newly installed windows. The alarm blared into life with a deafening roar, but Caine waved his hand energetically and silenced it. He then turned his attention to the intruders, knocking two of them out with elegant, seemingly effortless movements, and went to aid Kermit, who had broken a third one’s nose, and was now resolutely punching the lights out of a fourth one. Yet another masked man pulled out a gun, and Caine kicked it swiftly out of his hand. The sixth one lunged for Kermit, who simply used the heel of his right hand to push the guy’s nose into what passed for his brain. The man fell like a ton of bricks and Kermit returned his attention to the man he had been beating into a pulp.

“Kermit!” spoke Caine loudly over the ruckus, “Stop!”

But Kermit Griffin couldn’t stop. He had reverted into full mercenary mode, all trace of humanity seeping away from him as he systematically brutalized his attackers. There was no emotion in him, no life, even; a cool, detached, unstoppable killing machine seemed to have taken his place.

Caine forcibly restrained Kermit, almost choking him in a tight embrace. Kermit let go of the man at last, and Caine put his fingertips at Kermit’s temples, closing his eyes as if he was in pain.

“Fight your demons, Kermit”, he heard Caine’s voice inside his own head, for once not mellow and meek, but commanding and full of force, “fight them, or you will lose everything!”

 _You can’t change the past…_ Straker’s voice floated tauntingly in Kermit’s ears. _You are a killer, a coward, you care for no one, you care not for her, and she will DIE!_

 

Kermit screamed inside his head. He found himself surrounded by hues of red, pulsing angrily and outlining the most painful moments of his wretched life: David, shot full of heroin, dead in his own vomit; his father’s funeral… Kermit´s own capture and torture all those years ago… Blaisdell’s countless injuries, some of them because of Kermit’s recklessness… Laurie…

 

 _“You killed me, Kermit…”_ he heard her say. She was standing right next to him, wearing the pink, flowery gown she’d had on the day she died. Half her face was gone and she was holding a charred blue teddy in front of her pregnant belly like a shield.

 

 _“You killed_ us _, Kermit…”_

“No, NO—! I AM SORRY, Oh, God, I am so sorry!” Kermit yelled, falling to his knees.

“Fight, Kermit, _FIGHT!”_

“I don’t _want_ to fight, damn it! Not anymore… I deserve to die…”

 

Kermit was crumbling inside his own head. Laurie-ghost took a step forward and held out her ruined hand to him.

 _“Come with us, Kermit”,_ she crooned. _“You’ll pay your dues… forever…”_

Kermit hesitated, stopping just a couple of inches short of taking Laurie-ghost’s hand.

“Kermit”, Caine’s voice sounded dull, disconnected, coming from very far away, “Your… chi— strong— fight—”

 _Your chis are entwined_ , yet another voice reverberated in Kermit’s head, this time in the form of Master Dao, piercing through his grief. _Sarah_. He was entwined with Sarah, bonded to her in more ways than one; and if he surrendered his life force here, wherever that was, they’d take Sarah’s as well. That thought broke the spell. Kermit withdrew his hand and leaping to his feet again, adopted a defensive stance. Laurie-ghost circled him, still taunting him.

_“You won’t keep her, Kermit… she is the spoils of our war. You will lose everything…”_

 

Kermit steeled himself. Laurie-ghost’s bony, broken fingers touched his neck lightly and Kermit felt cold pouring inside of him. The pulsing red light dimmed, and a thick fog surrounded him. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She was… _had been_ his wife.

“That’s not Laurie, that’s not Laurie, that’s not Laurie…” he repeated himself like a mantra.

 _“You don’t have the guts!”_ Laurie-Ghost cackled, delivering a swift blow to Kermit’s face. Kermit fell on his knees again.

 _You will lose her… and them…_ Straker said from behind him, _and then we will keep you here, not alive, not quite dead either… so you can never join your faithful departed…_

 Kermit howled like a wounded animal and turned to face Straker, but of course, he wasn’t there.

 _Of course, you didn’t think it would be that easy?_ Straker laughed. _You have to face_ her, _Kermit the frog! She’s your biggest demon!_

“Kermit… this fight… I cannot fight for you”, Caine said, his voice echoing in dampened tones. 

“But I can”, thundered a new voice, distorted but powerful, piercing through the fog.

Kermit felt a surge of power coursing through his veins; he distinctly felt a hand pulling him up strongly so that he could regain his footing and a soft, silvery glow emanated from him. Laurie-Ghost held out her scorched hand again, but this time, Kermit grabbed her by her forearm and pulled so forcefully that he ripped it off. Laurie-Ghost tumbled through the air and fell a few feet away, vanishing in a swirl of red light.

 

 _You’re worthy, Knight,_ Master Dao’s voice echoed around him, and just like that, Kermit was back at the nursery, sporting a bloody lip, a puffy nose and a black eye, his dark glasses shattered at his feet, and Caine swinging himself calmly in the rocking chair with a stuffed frog in his lap.

“Caine—” Kermit wheezed. “What—”

“You… prevailed”, Caine said. “You are… truly… the Knight without Fear”.

Kermit wiped his brow with a trembling hand. He had almost forgotten that sodden prophecy.

“Are you kidding?” he gasped, “I was soiling myself up there— _in there_ — where the hell was that?”

“Someone is coming”, Caine pointed out calmly, signaling at the shattered window, from where a dark town car with diplomatic flags could be seen just entering the driveway, and apparently coming soundlessly to a halt out of their field of vision.

“Now what”, Kermit groaned, wiping blood from his lip. He bolted downstairs moodily, closely followed by Caine, still carrying the stuffed frog with him. The doorbell rang just as Kermit was entering the foyer, and he stepped forward to open the door to a very elegant man with silver hair and piercing baby blue eyes, impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray tailored suit; a disconnected part of Kermit rather thought he looked like a combination between Paul and Mark Harmon, that actor from Chicago Hope. The man was accompanied by a frail, petite blonde and blue-eyed woman, clad in a magnificent pale yellow midi dress with a matching overcoat. They looked right out of a Royal Family photoshoot.

“Do forgive me”, the man said with exquisite diction, momentarily taken aback by the sight that greeted him, “I might have the wrong address”; his tone said plainly he highly doubted that: “I am looking for the residence of a Mr. Kermit Griffin? My name is William Fitzgerald Greene”.

 

Kermit’s already injured jaw dropped to the floor.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Numbly, Kermit moved aside so that the Greenes could step inside. He followed them meekly into the parlor, where six or seven cardboard boxes were piled up in a corner, half unpacked; and he begged them to have a seat, still feeling like he was floating ten feet above his body.

Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned when meeting his in-laws, the one that had him returning from another plane of existence, emotionally wrecked, physically injured and looking like he had come off worse in a bar fight, _and_ with half a dozen men in various degrees of unconsciousness lying on the floor of the unfinished nursery to top it off, was certainly not one he would have picked. Kermit stood in the middle of the parlor without saying a word, staring through the Greenes rather than at them.

“This is my wife, Jillian Greene”, Mr. Greene said after a while, still sounding thoroughly dumbfounded.

“Kermit Griffin”, Kermit said hoarsely, “And this is… Caine”.

Caine bowed deeply, and Kermit leaned forward to kiss Jillian Greene’s proffered hand: apparently she felt she was entitled to that courtesy, but Kermit was still too numb to disabuse her of that notion. He straightened up and shook hands with Sarah’s adoptive father; he had a strong grip and he seemed intent on breaking Kermit’s fingers: he didn’t flinch, and he tightened his own grip just a notch, not quite challenging but not submissive, either.

William Fitzgerald Greene measured the man in front of him with a quick glance: he was bloody and disheveled, he looked like Jake LaMotta’s punch bag, and there was of course, the question of his name; but there was this _panache_ about him that made William Greene look past this rather unfortunate first impression and understand what his daughter saw in him.

“We are Sarah’s parents”, William added by way of explanation. “Do forgive me; have we come at a bad time?”

Kermit blinked.

“No— not at all”, he said, “Please, make yourselves at home. Would you care for some refreshments? Caine, may I have a word?”, and Kermit all but dragged Caine into the kitchen, both of them disappearing swiftly through the swing door.

 

“Caine! Those guys upstairs!” Kermit hissed, haphazardly putting together a tray with glasses and brandy: “Get rid of them!”

Caine nodded promptly and disappeared through the pantry door, where Bailey had been locked up, presumably by Caine himself, Kermit mused. The dog came charging forward, emitting loud warning howls, and pawed the kitchen door open, speeding towards the parlor. Kermit followed suit, laden with the tray of beverages.

“Bailey, down”, he ordered the dog, who was intent on licking Mr. Greene’s face. Bailey looked at Kermit resentfully but did as he was told, going to curl up next to the door, clearly waiting for Sarah to get home. Meanwhile, Kermit handed out glasses and poured drinks in stony silence.

“So, young man”, William Greene said, eyeing him critically, “how did you meet our daughter?”

Kermit left his own glass on top of the mantelpiece; it had been at least fifteen years since the last time someone had called him “young man”; his salt-and-pepper hair always leading people to believe he was much older than he actually was. _So this is how you want to play it,_ Kermit thought, slightly amused. He held Mr. Greene’s startlingly blue gaze unwaveringly while he considered how to answer the man’s question. Should he tell _monsieur le diplomat_ that he’d known her, walked with her once upon a dream?

Kermit gave a crooked smile. No… too Disneyish… and creepy.

Well, maybe he ought to tell him she’d been assaulted at the beginning of the year, and that he, Kermit, as the Detective assigned to the case —self-appointed, he might add—, had been thoroughly unprofessional and had asked her out on a date when she’d stopped by the precinct to work on the facial recognition of her assailants; and after just one date, they’d eloped to a cabin in the woods and then they’d gone to another plane of existence to get basically married; and after that, they had jumped on a plane to London and _now_ they were expecting twins who had awoken dormant magical powers on Sarah, that she would eventually use to defeat the source of all evil.

Oh, yeah, that’d do the trick.

“She… turned out to be my mentor’s biological daughter”, Kermit said simply. “Things just… developed quickly from there”.

William did not seem fully satisfied, but Jillian’s face was a work of art.

“Just _how_ in the world did she find this… biological father person?” she asked, distastefully, “she told me over the phone a few weeks ago but, honestly! It was a closed adoption; she wasn’t supposed to be able to access the records! _And,_ we were told the father didn’t want to have anything to do with her—”

“ _That_ was a misconception”, Kermit said through gritted teeth, barely maintaining his civility; he was always shirty when someone dissed Paul, but he couldn’t very well bite Sarah’s mother’s head off on their first acquaintance, no matter how much she deserved it.

“And, what do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?” William went on with the third degree. Kermit briefly considered answering _“I kill people”_ just like he used to do at Marilyn’s dinner parties, but refrained.

“I am a Police Detective at the 101st Precinct”, he said instead. “Paul— Sarah’s _father_ ”, he stressed the word almost unwillingly, “is my Captain”.

He saw Mrs. Greene flinch at his statement, and Kermit suddenly was able to read her expression as easily as if she’d written it down: _my only daughter with a_ cop? _And_ how _in the world can he afford this house?_ Mrs. Greene quickly adjusted her features to a look of vague indulgence but it was all for naught. The tension could be cut through with a knife.

Kermit opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to ask them _how_ had they found his house (his address had always been unlisted), when he was cut off by the sound of screeching tires and the front door banging open. Bailey woke up as if on cue and began to howl merrily.

“Kermit! KERMIT!” Sarah sounded anguished, “Kermit, where are you?”

Kermit muttered an excuse and went to her immediately, earning some points in William Greene’s estimation, at least.

“I am right here, Sweetcakes”, he said, coming out the door into the foyer. Sarah turned to him and gasped.

“Oh, God, Kermit, what— look at your face! We need to go to the hospital!”

“I’ll be fine, Sweetcakes”, Kermit waved a hand dismissively. “What’s wrong? You sounded—”, then it dawned on him: “you felt it, didn’t you?”

Sarah nodded and threw herself into his arms. Kermit rocked her gently and hugged her to him, letting her cry against his chest. She had been slightly less prone to crying spells as of late, but if she’d felt what he had, it was a wonder she hadn’t blasted off half the city on her way home. Strong emotions always made her lose control of her magic, Caine’s training notwithstanding. Kermit cupped her swollen belly with one hand.

“It’s OK, Sweetcakes, I’m fine, I’m fine”, he assured her softly. Sarah grabbed him by the lapels of his torn blazer (just like Lula did with Donnie Double D), and kissed him fiercely. All the lights of the house went out. That reminded Kermit that the Greenes were still sitting on the parlor, and much as he wanted to prolong the kiss (and maybe, move it to the bedroom, funny how a paranormal experience had put him in the mood), he broke it reluctantly.

“Your parents are in the parlor”, he murmured in her ear. The lights went on again. Obviously, Sarah had surmised he hadn’t meant Paul and Annie.

Kermit held her hand and escorted her inside the room. William and Jillian Greene stood up from their seats and remained rooted to the spot when they took in Sarah’s obviously pregnant belly, clearly outlined despite the oversized scrub she was wearing.

“Hello, Brünnhilde”, William greeted her, and Kermit felt a chill run down his spine; “that’s a nice belly you have there”.

 

≈§≈

 

“Why didn’t you _tell us?!”_ wailed Jillian Greene from her seat.

It was a little over 9 pm, and they were having coffee and pastries in the atrium, enjoying the sounds of the woods around them and the cool night breeze. Kermit had excused himself shortly after Sarah’s unceremonious arrival, and had taken a quick shower, changed into a clean suit, found a spare pair of dark glasses and asked Caine to try and put his face to rights. In the meantime, Sarah had filled her adoptive parents in the events of the past few months, conveniently choosing to leave out the goriest details or paranormal connections of any sort.

Not that they would have listened, anyway: the moment she informed them she was having twins, the Greenes had completely morphed into grandparent mode and could talk of nothing else.

“Please, _don’t_ tell me you plan to have my grandchildren out of wedlock”, Jillian Greene said primly.

“Mother”, Sarah said warningly, just as Kermit walked through the archway, bearing more drinks. Sarah knew he had heard her mother and she shook her head slightly at him so that he wouldn’t feel pressured to make a statement in that regard.

“They… are bonded beyond the conventionalisms of marriage”, Caine supplied helpfully. Sarah shot him a murderous look and Kermit bit back a smile.

“Yes…we can see that”, Jillian said, fixing her pretty doll eyes in Sarah’s belly, “but—”

“To Mother, nothing is valid unless properly announced in the society column”, Sarah said.

“Well, I mean to say!” Jillian exclaimed, “It is only natural, Darling! The daughter of a diplomatic _attaché…_ I mean, _everyone_ will _want_ to know of your marriage!”

Sarah ogled at her.

“I am not Lady Di, Mother”, she said, “half your friends don’t even know I exist”.

“Oh, Darling!” Jillian gave a musical laugh, “ _how_ can you say that…”

Bailey walked out just then, a rubber ball in his snout, and sat next to Sarah hoping she’d throw it. She obliged with a smile and Bailey ran off after it, barking merrily and chasing it around a clearing in the woods.

“Oh, Sarah, I am _sure_ that dog can’t be good for the babies” Jillian said tremulously.

Kermit closed his eyes. That was definitely one of the top ten things never to say to Sarah. It was as if the woman who called herself her mother didn’t know Sarah _at all._

 _“DON’T_ you mess with my dog”, she said icily. Her eyes had been reduced to steely grey slits, no trace of blue in them, and Kermit was again reminded of a younger Paul in his mercenary days. The resemblance was eerie… _and_ a bit frightening. Sarah tsked like an angry cat and drank a small sip of water. The lights wavered almost imperceptibly, and Sarah decided to munch on a cracker to try and fight her impending nausea. Kermit took one glance at Jillian’s face and steeled himself for the jibe he was sure was about to come.

“You need to watch what you eat, Darling”, Jillian said with all the sweetness of an asp, “that baby weight is _so difficult_ to shed!”

Sarah looked at her incredulously and put the remains of her cracker down slowly. Kermit had to fight very hard to remain in his seat, thoroughly enraged on Sarah’s behalf. Was the stupid woman blind? Aside from her baby bump, Sarah was as thin as a wafer from the constant vomiting, and she barely ate as it was! He opened his mouth to say something, but Sarah beat him to it:

“How would _you_ know?” she spat. “I don’t recall you having any babies”.

Kermit had to fight the urge to burst into laughter, watching Jillian reel from that comeback. Kermit had never seen Sarah being so purposely hurtful, but it suddenly dawned on him that she exercised her newfound magic instinctively in the exact same way she used her scathing tongue: blasting off whatever —or whomever—, she perceived as a threat. And to be fair, she’d endured Jillian’s passive-aggressive taunts for over three hours without losing it.

“Oh, Dear, that was uncalled for”, Jillian said with a trembling voice. Kermit was itching to strangle her. She reminded him too much of Jenna at her worst.

“ _That_ was uncalled for?” Sarah repeated, a little too shrilly, making the silverware rattle on the table: “Seriously, Mother? You have nothing better to do than to fly half-way across the globe to call me fat for a change? Not that is any of your _fucking_ business, but that cracker was the first thing that I managed to keep down today!”

Two glasses shattered, making Jillian jump in her seat. Caine stepped up promptly and gathered the shards into a napkin. He slid through the door towards the kitchen to get rid of them, while the Greenes stared at him wonderingly. Kermit, for his part, privately thinking Sarah’s outburst had been long overdue, handed her the plate of crackers, watched her take another one, caressed her cheek playfully, and sat back in his chair, staring at Jillian Greene in defiance.

“Well, Darling, I am sorry… I just _didn’t_ know!” wailed Jillian, “it’s just that you never tell me _anything_ so, naturally I assumed—”

“That I was sitting on my ass eating chocolates and acting like a crippled?” Sarah said witheringly, “Because I have spare time coming out of my ears, surely”.

“Oh, no, sweetie, I don’t mean it like that, I simply said—”

“Why are you here, Mom?” Sarah cut her off. “Not enough people in Switzerland to nag and belittle?

“Sarah…” William intervened soothingly. Kermit glared at him in disbelief. The man had barely strung two words together and he seemed totally incapable of saying boo to his wife; maybe after all their years of marriage he’d learned it was the best course of action not to cross that bitch, but honestly, how could he let her put Sarah down like that? _You don’t deserve her,_ Kermit thought angrily.

“No, don’t you take her side!” Sarah said, her voice trembling. “Just… please… why can’t you— be happy for me for once? Without worrying how will it reflect on _you_ that your stupid adopted daughter got knocked up?”

Her voice had risen to prima donna decibels, and the glasses, teacups and bottles clattered on the table, but Sarah managed to reign in the wave before it got out of control. Kermit squeezed her hand reassuringly under the table.

“You’re right, Dear”, said William, “Jill, behave yourself, for crying out loud”, he added at last, “you’re upsetting her and that can’t be good for the babies. We don’t care how this will reflect on us, Sarah”, he said solemnly, “we just want what’s best for you, is all”.

 _“This_ is what’s best for me”, Sarah said mutinously, making Kermit feel warm inside. He rather thought he ought to say something, maybe assure the Greenes he’d do right by their daughter or something equally medieval, but something stopped him.

 _Now is not the time_ , he distinctly heard Caine inside his head. Kermit downed his umpteenth cup of coffee: that was another thing, Caine had returned from the kitchen and he was currently sitting in the atrium, bold as brass, and no one seemed to find it odd.

“I can see that, honey”, William said, “If you’re happy, then I am happy”.

Sarah smiled at him, even as Jillian failed dismally at hiding a sneer.

 

The Greenes eventually asked for a grand tour of Brookside, and Kermit acquiesced, praying that they would leave already; he didn’t need any mystical heritage to see Sarah had crossed the realms of tiredness into downright maddening exhaustion and that she wouldn’t hold on much longer without blowing up something bigger than a couple of glasses. The Greenes found the old Victorian house to their liking for the most part, but of course, Jillian _just had_ to have her say on how things could be improved; she gave out a couple suggestions Kermit knew Sarah would soundly ignore, and then she returned to the subject of everything baby and _how_ could someone so _young_ be a grandmother already.

“You’re sixty-three, Mother”, Sarah said, blinking rapidly as if willing drowsiness away. Kermit didn’t laugh, but it was a close call.

Jillian ogled at her daughter, aghast.

“ _Darling!”_ she breathed, “One must never reveal one’s _age!”_

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed, rubbing at her belly absent-mindedly.

“Why ever not?” she asked. “I am just saying you’re old enough to be a grandmother… I mean, I just turned thirty-one myself, so this is hardly a teenage pregnancy. I assure you I was of sound enough mind when we made them”.

“SARAH ANDREA GREENE!” Jillian shrieked, horrified. Kermit and Sarah chuckled in unison and they were appeased when they saw William biting back a smile of his own.

“What?” asked Sarah innocently, “I just want to set the record straight, is all; the last thing I want is for you to run through the city yelling that your poor little stupid daughter was taken advantage of. No, Mother, we might have not exactly planned this pregnancy, but we sure as hell knew _exactly_ what we were doing”.

“Sarah, don’t be so lewd!”

“Lewd? Come on, Mother, don’t tell me you still believe babies come from Paris!”

“Jillian, I told you to behave yourself”, William reminded her sternly.

“But it’s her doing it!” Jillian wailed, sounding more and more like a spoiled teenager.

“You’re provoking her, Jill; you always do and then act all innocent when she lashes back”, William observed. “Just leave her alone already”.

 _Well, I might come to like you after all,_ Kermit thought.

 

They slowly made their way back to the parlor, so that the Greenes could pick up their coats and be on their way. Jillian managed to remain silent most of the walk there, but in the end she couldn’t resist asking another question:

“Have you thought of baby names yet?”

Kermit watched Sarah grin evilly and he waited for the mic to drop. Jillian had walked right into that one.

“Yeah, we thought we’d follow the tradition, so we’ll name them Fozzie and Gonzo”, Sarah offered, with a dead serious expression.

This time, everyone but Jillian burst into laughter.

“Oh, honey, that’s a good one!” William said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, the atmosphere in the room finally relaxed; Jillian looked from one person to the next with wild eyes, and she startled them all when she wailed:

“Good heavens, child, you don’t mean that!?”

Sarah sighed again. _Way to spoil the fun_ , she thought to herself.

“Mother, I find your lack of fluency in sarcasm disturbing” she said, and Kermit felt himself falling in love with her all over again for ad-libbing Star Wars with such perfect timing: “No, of course I don’t mean that. To tell you the truth, we don’t even know what we’re having; they’re huddled over one another and we haven’t been able to determine their sex; so, no, we have not thought of baby names yet”.

Caine looked suddenly as if he wanted to say something, perhaps the exact gender of each baby and their Shambhalan names, but Sarah gifted him with such a look that Caine recoiled. Kermit laughed again. _Feel the Force, Caine,_ he thought irreverently.

“Well, _do_ let me know as soon as you choose the names, so I can have their garments embroidered”, Jillian said.

“Thank you, Mother, but they’re not Royal Princes, why would they need anything embroidered?”

“Oh, Darling, it’s customary!” Jillian said, “You had your own set of garments especially made”.

Sarah raised her hands in defeat and looked at her father in a silent plea for help. William Greene nodded and said:

“Jill, I think we’ve imposed long enough. Sarah needs to rest, and after all, Mr. Griffin _is_ injured, although your visage seems to have improved somewhat” William finished, looking at Kermit, “what did happen?”

“Please, call me Kermit, everyone does”, he said with a genuine smile, the one that he knew Sarah loved. “I— flew off a wayward ladder trying to install some new windows in the nursery. And I broke those, too, you saw”, he added lightly, “but no matter, Caine here put me back to rights”.

“Did you, now?” asked William, looking at Caine closely for the first time, “are you a doctor?”

“I am… a priest”, Caine said, shrugging.

“Oh, but that’s _wonderful!”_ Jillian gushed, unable to stop herself, “will you be performing the wedd—”

“Oh, for crying out loud, give it a rest already!” Sarah exclaimed, “He is _not_ that kind of priest, Mother. Now, I _really_ don’t want to be rude, but please, _pretty_ please, I must ask you to leave; I am dead on my feet and we both have to get up early for work tomorrow”.

And after a couple of hurried goodbye hugs, Sarah ushered them out the door.

 

≈§≈

 

 

“God!” she exclaimed once in their bedroom, “I thought they’d never leave!”

Caine had stayed for a little while to help clean up and to give Sarah a handful or herbs to chew on; he stayed until she finished the last one and then he left, making Sarah promise she’d stop by his place the next day. After Caine’s departure, Kermit and Sarah had climbed upstairs tiredly, as if they were a hundred years old, and had stepped into the shower together, too worn-out to do anything else but wash up.

“They’re… a lot to take in”, Kermit admitted while he donned on a clean cotton shirt and a pair of boxers, “Well, your Dad’s alright, but Mommie Dearest...”

“She is a nightmare” Sarah agreed, “she could give Joan Crawford a run for her money”, she groaned as she climbed into bed, crossing her legs under her belly so that she could rub at her aching feet, and continued:

“I remember this one time she had been particularly nasty about something, so I yelled at her that maybe there was a good reason why she couldn’t have children; she slapped me so hard she broke her wrist, and then she didn’t speak to me for like two months because she had to wear a cast to a party and it had ruined her ensemble”.

“She hit you?” Kermit asked angrily.

“Oh, yeah” Sarah said indifferently, “all the time when I was little. She kind of… lost control when she did. She really isn’t cut out to be a mother…” she finished in a low voice. Kermit settled in the bed behind her, and began working his fingers into the taut muscles of her back, feeling her relax gradually under his touch. He moved his head so that he could press a soft kiss in the hollow of her collarbone.

“I now understand that tattoo on your ankle”, he said with a strangled voice, “and I understand why you wouldn’t sing at her parties. It wasn’t the guests, you feared _she’d_ laugh at you in front of everybody”, he watched her nod painfully in assent, unable to speak, “and I understand why you put off telling them about us as long as you could”, Kermit murmured against the crook of her shoulder. “I’d thought that, maybe…”

“I was embarrassed of you?” Sarah supplied, leaning into his caresses, “oh, no, my love, never that…  I just— I knew this would happen and I wanted to avoid it… to spare _you_ … It— it felt like too much, on top of everything else”.

She turned slightly to her right and kissed him softly on the lips.

“I mean, she’s happy for us, in her own twisted way”, she went on, “but she is also insanely jealous and she acts out on it”.

“Because you’ll get to know what it’s like to have your own kids”, Kermit said.

“Oh, yeah”, Sarah mirrored him, “That, and also, the fact that I found Paul; her perfect little family is crumbling before her eyes”.

“Well, she is giving the wreckage quite a push”, Kermit said.

Sarah laughed.

“Yes! And the worst part is that she can’t see it” Sarah kissed Kermit again and leaned contentedly into his chest. His arms came around her and he caressed her arms and shoulders slowly.

“You never said how bad it was”, Kermit said.

“I— Well, her behavior is hard to put into words”, Sarah said. “She has got to be seen in action so that people get what she does… Otherwise I just sound like a whiny brat saying her Mom is mean to her”.

“I am sorry, Sweetcakes. You should have been brought up by Paul and Annie”.

“I know, right? But hey, Dad is alright, we really get along, so… no regrets there”.

“On second thought”, Kermit said, “I don’t regret it, either. Had you been a Blaisdell all your life… well, I would have never dared to pursue a relationship with you, you would have been like a little sister to me”.

“Or an aunt, eh, Siegfried?” Sarah said cheekily, placing a soft kiss to the side of his neck and making him shiver with pleasure: “which reminds me: what the hell happened before I got here?”

Kermit’s hands stilled half-way up her arms.

“I’d hoped you had forgotten about that”, he said flatly.

“Fat chance” Sarah said briskly, “Spill it, Detective”.

So Kermit told her. Everything. He was crying by the end of it, rough, violent sobs torn from the depths of his soul. Sarah maneuvered awkwardly on the bed, pulling Kermit to her and holding him until his sobs subsided, just as he’d done for her earlier.

“It was you, wasn’t it”, she heard Kermit’s voice, muffled in her chest.

“What was me?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

“The— that other voice— the one that said…. That it could fight for me when Caine said he couldn’t… then… someone— pulled me up, and… and… there was this… _power_ just— seeping out of me…” He raised his head to look at her as if she’d just fallen from a far-off planet: “it was you, it was _your_ power. You saved me”.

“I didn’t know it had worked until I got home”, Sarah said, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Kermit kneeled on the bed and hugged her fiercely.

“You— you danced me through the panic” he managed to choke out. “I can only think of one other person who would do such a thing for me”.

They both knew who he meant.


	18. Chapter 18

Katya arrived to Sloanville as Rykker had said, and she became Sarah’s appointed bodyguard despite their mutual displeasure at the idea. She tailed Sarah at a distance day and night and she had in fact managed to get rid of a couple of would-be-assailants, keeping Sarah none the wiser about it, because that was how Katya liked to roll. She was currently sitting inside her rental car, keeping a watchful eye over Caine’s small loft, where Sarah was, just like every other afternoon after her shift, still working on controlling her magic.

 “Caine” said Sarah thoughtfully, “is there any way I could learn how to produce a shield of sorts?”

“A… shield?” Caine echoed softly.

“Yeah. You know how I usually blow things up?” Caine nodded and Sarah went on: “well, I was wondering whether I could learn to channel that force into a shield instead, and maybe…. Send it to someone even if he’s not near me?”

“You… wish to protect Kermit”, Caine said.

“I do. I’ve already done it once, only I didn’t know I was doing it, did he tell you?”

“He did not” Caine spoke, “but I heard your voice”.

“Oh, I see. Well, it wasn’t precisely a shield then, more like… a transfusion of power”, Sarah said, “but I am sure that expansive wave can be morphed into a shield. I just— I’d like to learn how to do it consciously”, she finished.

Caine nodded in assent.

“We could… find the way to make that happen”, he said, with a look on his face Sarah couldn’t quite fathom. “Ah, Master! I was just about to summon you”.

The Ancient Lo Si walked in, bearing a mortar with assorted herbs. He listened to Sarah’s request intently and declared it could be done, even offering himself as the subject to be protected. Caine helped Sarah to her feet and they set about the task with enthusiasm. Still, after two hours of efforts, she had only managed to produce a tiny, wavering shield that had crumbled with a well-placed high-kick from Caine; and she had, instead, sent Lo Si hurling on his bony ass across the room multiple times, to his own, admitted, infinite amusement.

“I am beginning to enjoy it”, he chortled from the floor, to allay Sarah’s horrified protests.

“I think… that’s enough… for today”, Caine observed calmly, and Sarah agreed gratefully. She was tired, drenched in sweat and she had a searing backache; she could also feel small disconnected contractions which didn’t hurt, but didn’t add to her comfort, either. She flopped onto the nearest chair and put her feet up with a grunt. Lo Si offered her a cup of very strong tea and Sarah took it without question, ignoring the late July heat-wave they were having.

“You seem… worried”, Caine observed.

Sarah nodded in assent.

“I just— I keep thinking of Kermit in that place”, she replied, “It’s been a few weeks and he’s… well, back to his usual self, but I— I just can’t shake the feeling that something is about to happen”.

“Something is”, Caine said, and Sarah’s face fell.

“When will this ever end?” She wondered out loud.

“When… it has run its course” Caine supplied.

Sarah rubbed at her belly softly, trying to soothe the babies inside it. She had become increasingly uncomfortable as she neared her third trimester and she swelled up to the size of Texas, and she often made Kermit laugh every time she complained that one of the Muppets was crushing her bladder, and the other one, her diaphragm, with a very mercenary ability to go for her weaker points.

“Oh, Sarah!” Skalany exclaimed from the threshold, “Here you are!”

Caine kissed Skalany gently on the cheek and welcomed her inside.

“I really can’t stay, I just came to drop these off”, she said, handing Caine a couple of old books, “thank you, they were really, um… interesting. I’m on my way to have dinner with Jody. Want to come, Sarah? Kermit will be working late”.

“Yeah, he told me”, Sarah said, “Sure, I’ll go. Let’s see if they let me eat something this time”, she finished, pointing at her bump.

“Remember, avoid yellow food!” Lo Si shouted from his corner, where he was busy grinding herbs.

Skalany looked confused.

“What? Why can’t you have yellow food?”

“Oh, the Ancient seems to believe it will alter the babies’ auras”, Sarah replied.

“O…K…” Skalany said. “Shall we?”

 

They drove to a small restaurant just in the heart of town, where Jody was already waiting for them. Katya followed them at a distance and waited a while before entering the restaurant, she asked for a table in a corner and passed Sarah’s table without a glance or a sign of recognition.

“I had to go ahead and get a table”, Jody explained. “This place is packed, is it any good?”

“Oh, I’ve come here once or twice”, Skalany said, “It’s not bad. And they have a killer _crème brûlée”._

They took their time ordering their food —Sarah dutifully avoiding anything that remotely resembled yellow—, and they ate while they talked and giggled.

“How are you feeling?” Jody asked Sarah.

“Like I swallowed a beach ball full of ferrets”, Sarah answered truthfully and the two female detectives laughed. They commented on the wonders of hyperactive bladders and swollen feet, Skalany offering every piece of advice she had ever heard from her meddlesome mother.

“I hear”, said Jody, between mouthfuls of chocolate cake, “that not everything is that bad…I’ve been told that pregnancy sends libido into overdrive”.

Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair and busied herself with her glass of water.

“Don’t play coy, Sarah” Skalany said gleefully, “Remember, we live vicariously through you, so, cough up, tell us _everything!”_

“What? NO! Are you _crazy?”_ Sarah exclaimed, her face redder than a firetruck, “I am _so_ no telling you guys the details of my sex life with Kermit! He’s your colleague, for God’s s—”

But she was cut off by the sound of breaking china somewhere in the vicinity of their table.

“Oh, now what did I do?” Sarah asked in annoyance, because it had been weeks since she had accidentally blasted something off (since her parents’ visit, to be exact); but it soon transpired it hadn’t been her doing: Jody discreetly nudged Skalany on the ribs and pointed in the direction of the noise. Sarah looked to where Jody was pointing at and saw an attractive woman sitting at the next table. She was exquisitely dressed in a red business suit, she had long, honey-colored hair, beautifully gathered at the nape of her neck, and she seemed to be in her early forties. She had her hand frozen half-way to her mouth, and a porcelain cup lay shattered at her feet. She was looking at Sarah with the distraught expression of someone who has received a nasty shock, and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from Sarah’s bulging belly.

“Shit”, murmured Jody under her breath.

“What?” mouthed Sarah in turn.

“CAPTAIN SIMMS!” Skalany bellowed, turning to greet the woman with a huge smile on her face, “long time, no see! _How_ have you been?”

 

 _Ooooh,_ thought Sarah at the mention of the elegant woman’s name. _Well, this is awkward._

“Detectives”, said Captain Simms, perhaps a little shakily, coming close to their table; “it’s so good to see you both, how are things at the 101st?

“Oh, everything is just GREAT!” Skalany kept yelling, “Jackson retired, Wesson got promoted and Kermit is going to be a father—”

Jody looked like she needed the toilet and badly. Sarah herself felt about to lose the meager dinner she had just managed to keep down for the first time in days. Skalany looked two steps away from being committed. Captain Simms ogled at Sarah’s belly a little more and finally she said regally:

“I see”.

Sarah fought off the urge to bite her lip. Taking a deep breath, she stood up awkwardly and held out a hand to Captain Simms.

“Sarah Greene, pleased to meet you”, she said, with all the charm she could muster.

“Karen Simms. Likewise”, said Captain Simms, shaking her hand warily. “You didn’t take his name”, she observed, letting go of Sarah’s hand as if she’d scorched her. Which, Sarah suspected, she could have done without realizing it.

“Oh, we’re not married” Sarah replied lightly.

“Yet!” Skalany added loudly. Apparently, she was incapable of restraining herself. Sarah shot a lethal glance in her direction.

“I see”, said Captain Simms again. “Well… I guess congratulations are in order”, she finished stiffly. The poor woman seemed to have difficulty breathing.

“Thank you”, Sarah mumbled, wishing the earth would just open and swallow her. Jody came to her rescue.

“How are things at the 59th, Cap—”

But she didn’t get to finish the sentence, because at the same time, four masked men came crashing through the door. One of them was carrying a machine gun and he fired a round through the roof. That got everyone’s attention. Skalany forced Sarah to sit down and Captain Simms reached for her sidearm. So did Skalany and Jody… and Katya a few tables away.

“Listen up!” the man with the machine gun yelled, “do as we say and no one will get hurt. Be quiet, let us get what we came for and we’ll be on our merry way”.

“Look” said the manager, holding his hands up in the air, “why don’t we calm down? The cash register is right there, just take the money and—”

Machine Gun Man emptied a clip into the manager’s chest. Several people screamed.

“Shit” Jody snarled under her breath.

“I said SHUT UP!” Machine Gun Man yelled, and people complied immediately.

The group of masked men walked resolutely around the tables, apparently looking for someone. They came to a halt when they reached the table where the three female cops and Sarah were huddled together.

“You”, said Machine Gun Man, pointing at Sarah; “get over here”.

“No” spoke Captain Simms firmly, standing to shield Sarah with her body. You had to hand it to her, Sarah thought bemusedly; her personal feelings aside, this woman was a pro. Jody and Skalany stood up as well and drew out their guns. Sarah thought of her own Baby Glock… currently stashed away in the glove compartment of her car, parked outside Caine’s loft, where it would do a whole lot of good, surely. Machine Gun Man sighed impatiently.

“You’re outnumbered” he observed conversationally.

“No, we’re not, you nitwit”, Katya said from behind them, coming from her table to stand next to Jody, also aiming a gun at Machine Gun Man, “can’t you count?”

Jody, Skalany and Captain Simms turned to look at Katya, bewildered.

“Don’t do anything stupid, girlie”, Machine Gun Man said, but neither woman lowered their weapons.

“Ok, then, have it your way”, Machine Gun smiled and took aim to fire, just as Sarah stood up violently, turning over her chair, and brought her arms down in a graceful movement Caine had taught her, albeit with a little more vigor than she used when practicing: the four men hurled backwards on their asses, blasted off by an invisible force. Captain Simms looked at Sarah wildly, even as Skalany and Jody screeched together:

“FREEZE, POLICE!” pointing their guns at the fallen men. Three of them surrendered without question, as their own weapons had flown out of their hands during the blast, but Machine Gun Man fired at the women haphazardly. Sarah suddenly saw everything in slow motion, each and every bullet flying towards them clearly outlined and spinning in the air almost elegantly. She took a deep breath, prayed to the gods above that it would work, and raised a hand to try and project a shield. The bullets ricocheted off seemingly in thin air, lodging in the walls and shattering silverware all over the place. Katya, understanding what had happened, slapped the guns out of Jody’s and Skalany’s hands before they’d shoot behind the shield, but she didn’t reach Captain Simms in time, and she fired her sidearm twice while she was still behind Sarah’s invisible shield.

“NO!” shrieked Sarah and Katya together. Moving swiftly for a woman nearing her third trimester and carrying twins, Sarah yanked Captain Simms by the lapels of her elegant blazer just as the first bullet the woman had fired hit the invisible wall and bounced off like a boomerang to where Captain Simms’s head had been a mere second ago. The second bullet hit her on the right side of her chest, and she fell over Sarah with a grunt. In the meantime, Machine Gun Man threw his weapon away and bolted for the door.

“I’ll get the bastard” Katya hissed to Jody and Skalany, “you sort out this bloody mess!” and she ran through the door after the man. Skalany and Jody pounced into action, subduing and cuffing the remaining assailants with trembling hands.

“Call 911!” Sarah screeched form under Captain Simms, who was bleeding profusely.

“Officer needs assistance, OFFICER NEEDS ASSISTANCE!” Jody barked into her radio, “Officer down, officer down! Shots fired at 598 Chestnut Road, requesting backup! Send a fucking ambulance!”

Sarah forcibly manhandled Captain Simms to a supine position and she kneeled awkwardly next to her. She snapped open Captain Simms blazer to check her wound, and blanched. It didn’t look good.

“Miss… Greene…” Captain Simms choked out.

“I’m here, Captain”, Sarah said soothingly. “Stay with me”.

Sarah checked Captain Simms’s pulse and found it faint, erratic; she then made sure that the injured woman’s airway was clear and applied pressure to the wound.

“Stay with me, Captain”, Sarah said, more calmly than she actually felt. “Look at me, you’re going to be fine, do you hear me?”

Captain Simms closed her eyes and Sarah rubbed at her sternum with her knuckles. Captain Simms didn’t stir. Sarah plied her eyes open and exhaled through her nose. Captain Simms’s pupils were dilated and unresponsive. Sarah put her fingers to the side of Captain Simms’s neck to check her carotid pulse. There was none.

“Oh, just great”, Sarah said.  She splayed her knees farther away to improve her balance, and put both hands over the injured woman’s chest, beginning compressions and trying her best to tuck her belly out of the way, which wasn’t an easy task.

“Guys, I’m losing her!” she called out, slightly breathless, without stopping CPR. Skalany approached them with tears in her eyes, but merely stood there, as if in shock.  Jody had just finished up setting the police lines around them and was having a hard time controlling the gawking crowd single-handedly. Finally, the blaring of an ambulance siren was heard in the vicinity of the restaurant, and soon a team of EMTs burst through the door, pushing a wheeled stretcher with them.

“Step aside, ma’am”, said an EMT to Sarah: “we’ll take it from here— oh, hi, doctor Greene!” he added, recognizing her: “all right, take positions!” he yelled at the rest of the team.

“Thanks, Phil”, Sarah panted, still giving CPR; “take over compressions, will you? I feel like one of the babies is about to fall off”.

Phil did as asked swiftly, and Sarah crawled awkwardly on all fours until she reached the emergency kit; she grabbed a stethoscope, a pair of gloves and a venoclysis kit.  In that very minute, Kermit and Peter entered the restaurant at a quick pace, followed by five or six patrolmen, guns drawn and ready to kick some ass; however, they stopped in their tracks as they took in the scene developing in front of them.

“Pump the oxygen up to 10 LPM”, Sarah was saying to a female EMT with an ID tag that read “Jeanie”. In the meantime, Sarah inserted a needle into Captain Simms’s arm and opened the IV kit. “Get one on her other arm”, she said to Jeanie; “is she breathing?”

“Nope”, said Phil, still giving compressions.

“Pulse?”

“Nothing”, said the EMT called Jeanie.

“Keep going, Phil; Jeanie, 2 amps of epi, and get the defibrillator; and you there, get me a tube”, Sarah said to yet another EMT. Kermit stared at Sarah, transfixed, as she crawled towards his ex-captain’s head, removed the oxygen mask on Captain Simms’s face, pushed her jaw out of its joints effortlessly with her fingers and rapidly inserted a cannula down the Captain’s trachea. Sarah connected it to a blue AMBU and motioned another EMT so that he would take care of ventilation.  She then pushed a couple of adrenaline amps through one of the IV lines, took Captain Simms’s pulse again and sighed.

“Paddles”, she said laconically, as she took them from Jeanie’s hands. Sarah held up a hand to Phil so that he’d stop the compressions. She placed a paddle on Captain’s Simms’s bruised chest and looked at the screen.

“VF” She said and Kermit wondered what the hell ‘VF’ was. “All right, charge to 200. Everyone CLEAR!” Sarah cried, and she pressed the buttons in the paddles she had placed on Captain Simms’s chest. Kermit flinched but didn’t look away as his ex-captain (and former love interest) shook violently from head to toe.

“Sinus rhythm, she’s back!” cried Jeanie. But they didn’t have time to celebrate.

“O-sat is falling…” Phil said warningly, “and BP’s dropping!”

“Oh, fuck me sideways!” Sarah snarled, and Kermit suddenly wanted to laugh out loud, despite the gravity of the situation. He watched her place the stethoscope to her ears and leaned in to listen to Captain Simms’s chest.

“Right lung not ventilating”, she said, “Which means we have a probable haemopneumothorax. Jeanie, get me iodine, a 32 G chest tube, a scalpel and all the Kellies you can find”.

“What, you’re going to do it here?” Jeanie wailed.

“Well, yes I am!” Sarah retorted, “If we wait, she’ll go into VF again or we’ll have a full tamponade and we’ll lose her!”

 

Jeanie nodded promptly and handed Sarah what she’d asked for. Sarah tore open Captain Simms’s garments, poured a generous amount of iodine over her chest and sides, took the scalpel, and made a quick, small incision in between Captain Simms’s left side ribs; Jeanie rushed forward to stem the bleeding with sterile gauzes.

“Stop ventilation”, she said, “I’m about to cut the pleura; Jeanie, scissors”.

She transected the intercostal muscles with the scissors and inserted a finger to carefully push Captain Simms’s lung out of the way.

“Rib spreader”, she called, and inserted it through the incision she’d just made, to effectively spread Captain Simms’s ribs aside. On the background, Peter looked away making a retching noise, just as Katya barged in, clutching at her side and wheezing.

“The bloody bastard got away”, she announced to the crowd of cops who were currently staring at Sarah, “he hopped into a jo’er and I lost him, but I managed to jot down the license plate…” she panted, and then turned her gaze to where everyone else’s was fixed on: “Shite on a crumpet, what the _fuck_ is she _doing_?!?” she exclaimed.

She wasn’t the only one surprised out of her wits. Skalany and Jody’s faces were all eyes, and Skalany was openly crying. Peter still looked quite green after losing his lunch and Kermit… well; Kermit couldn’t keep his eyes off the crude scene before him, marveled at the cool efficiency displayed by Sarah, not unlike his own when he was dead set on a mission; although he had to admit he had never been faced with someone who could turn the most horrid procedure into a skillful race against death. His inner mercenary was mesmerized.

“I’ll be fecked” Katya whistled, amazed against her will.

In the meantime, Sarah had inserted a small tube through the incision and was sucking out a slush of clots and blood.

“Jeanie, ready with those Kellies, help me clamp every bleeding vessel you see”. Jeanie did as told, and soon it looked as if they were trying to extricate Edward Scissorhands blades-first out of Captain Simms’s chest. Sarah inserted yet another larger tube into the incision, secured it to the skin and went back to listen to the injured woman’s chest.

“She’s ventilating”, she announced, “this is the best I can do here, take her, take her now”, she concluded, and she sat back on her heels so as to make way so that the EMTs could pick Captain Simms up and put her on the stretcher. Sarah took of her bloody gloves, tossed them aside and rubbed at her bulging belly absently.

“What about you?” asked Jeanie a little shyly, “Are you injured?”

“I’m OK, Jeanie, thanks”, Sarah said, “Just numb from the waist down. Take care of her, will you?” she added, and then swayed violently to her side when a sudden wave of dizziness hit her.

“Dr. Greene?” said Jeanie uncertainly. “You don’t look OK. Let me check on you”.

She reopened her kit and took out a few items just as Kermit jumped the police lines and rushed to Sarah’s side.

“Sweetcakes?” he asked, urgently. He put her arms around her so that she could lean into him. Sarah did, and she stretched her legs in front of her, hoping that it would release some of the trapped blood in her lower extremities.

“It’s nothing”, she said weakly, “Just orthostatic hypotension. I was on my knees too long”.

“Lay her down”, Jeanie instructed Kermit, and when he did, she put Sarah’s feet up.

“See? I am feeling better already”.

Jeanie nodded noncommittally, and proceeded to check Sarah’s vitals.

“You’re right, your BP is _way_ too low”, she said, “but, you see, I don’t like your heart rate; you’re not compensating, on the contrary, you’re bradycardic, so I am taking you in”.

“What? No!” Sarah exclaimed. “I’ve always had orthostatic hypotension; it’s just that it’s worsened since I became pregnant”.

“Be that as it may, you’re still going to the hospital, I won’t risk it. You doctors are all the same; you too get sick, you know? Just let us do our jobs already”.

Sarah looked at Kermit wildly from the floor, but Kermit, who hadn’t understood a word they’d said, decided it was best if he didn’t budge:

“You’re going, Sweetcakes”, he said, and his tone broke to no argument. Sarah closed her eyes in defeat.

“You go with her, Kermit”, Jody said, approaching them gingerly, and giving the blood on the floor a wide berth, “we’ll sort out this mess”.

Kermit nodded swiftly and followed the EMTs and Sarah’s stretcher outside into a second ambulance. He climbed inside, sat next to Sarah and took her hand.

“I’m fine, really, I am” Sarah insisted, feeling the intensity of Kermit’s gaze on her even through his glasses, but the truth was that she felt more than a little faint.

“Maybe it was the… _thing_ , you know”, she added in a low voice to Kermit, heeding Jeanie’s attentive eyes on her. Kermit raised an eyebrow.

“You had to… use the _thing?”_ he asked.

“Oh, yeah!” she mimicked him, “and it was a blast! The biggest one yet”.

“What exactly are we talking about here?” Jeanie cut in, “did you take something? A drug?”

Sarah actually laughed out loud and pointed at her pregnant belly.

“Really, you think?” she said. “No, I meant… prenatal yoga”, she lied wildly. “My yogi really went out all the way earlier today”.

 

They had arrived at the ER, and the EMTs took Sarah’s stretcher down the ambulance and wheeled her inside. Frankie, the doctor who had tended to Skalany when she’d been shot, was assigned to Sarah, and despite all her feeble protests, he declared firmly that they’d keep her overnight while they ran some more tests.

“You would’ve done the same, Kiddo”, Frankie said pleadingly to Sarah, “be nice”.

 

So there Sarah was, dozing off in a semiprivate room, lying on her left side as instructed, and with a needle stuck in her arm, when a male nurse walked in with a syringe in his hand. Kermit had gone out momentarily to fill out some forms, and the patient on the other bed was downright comatose, so Sarah opened her eyes blearily and suddenly her survival instinct went into overdrive.

“You are annoyingly difficult to kill”, said the male nurse with a heavy accent, slapping Sarah hard across the face. Sarah closed her eyes tiredly, half considering to just let him do it and be done with it; at least no more people would get hurt on her account, she mused, but then reason kicked in and as she summoned her strength from deep inside, she spoke:

“A poisoned needle, really? Who trained you, Stefano DiMera?”

The male nurse punched her with a closed fist this time, and then bent over her… only to be blasted backwards with such force that he dented the door with his head. He fell over and a pool of blood began to form under his cracked skull. All the equipment in the room chirruped and emitted loud sparks, the heart monitor let out an ear-splitting beep and a strong smell of burnt plastic filled the air.

A herd of nurses and doctors spilled inside, closely followed by Kermit, Desert Eagle firmly planted in his hand.

“What the hell happened in here!” yelled a tall, vigorous man with a dark goatee and an impeccable white coat. Sarah’ eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of him and her hands went to pull up her covers of their own volition.

“Doctor Denning!” she exclaimed and the man stopped in his tracks, “what are you doing here?”

The man took in her unmistakably pregnant mid-section, clearly outlined despite the covers, and he swallowed hard, trying to conceal his shock.

Well, Frankie told me they had brought you in drenched in blood, so naturally, I rushed to see you”, Denning said, with a tone of voice Kermit didn’t care at all for.

“Naturally”, said Sarah acidly, and then it suddenly dawned on Kermit. That goateed fellow was the doctor who had sent Sarah packing all those years ago. He leaned indolently on the door frame as Dr. Denning ushered the group of nurses and doctors outside, telling them the show was over.

“What the hell happened, Sarah?” he asked her again when they left.

“He touched the monitor and flew off in the air”, she said, innocently. “I don’t know, maybe a short circuit?”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar”, Denning said and Kermit fumed, because he was right. “Are you OK?”

“Oh, yeah, I am fine!” Sarah replied, with a hint of sarcasm Kermit was sure only he could detect, “those IV fluids did me a load of good”.

“You’re incorrigible”, Denning said, stepping over the fallen fake nurse, “who is that? I’ve never seen him before”.

Sarah shrugged in a very Caineish way.

“Who hit you?” Denning asked, eyeing her face critically, where a bruise was beginning to form in her left cheek. He turned to look at Kermit suspiciously, apparently choosing to forget he had been the last to walk into the room.

“WHAT?” Kermit roared, lunging forward.

“Sarah Greene”, Denning said sternly, with all the authority of the Attending Physician addressing the new and rather stupid med student, “you will tell me what happened _right now”._

“You _will_ watch your tone when addressing Sarah”, spoke Kermit warningly. Denning turned to look at him with a scathing reply in the tip of his tongue, but one look at the humongous Desert Eagle still in Kermit’s hand, all complete with a scope and the dangerous grin of its bespectacled proprietary shut Denning up effectively.

“He came at me with a syringe”, Sarah said in a placating tone, pointing at the hypodermic needle next to the unconscious man, “I might have mocked his methods and he clocked me”.

“You _might_ have mocked his methods?” Kermit repeated in disbelief, “What did you say to him?”

“Well, I asked him if he’d gone to Murder 101 at the Days of Our Lives set”, Sarah replied and Kermit snorted with laughter as he holstered his gun in his SOB carry.

“Oh, dear God, Sweetcakes!” he chortled, “No wonder why he snapped!”

“Yeah, she’s been known to inspire that reaction in people”, Denning added and Kermit looked at him witheringly over the rim of his glasses, but Denning pretended not to notice, “In fact, I’ve always said her sarcasm will get her killed eventually”.

“Oh, _have_ you, now?” Sarah replied, in her best imitation of Rykker’s caustic tone. Kermit lowered his glasses fractionally and winked at her.

“So… how did he end up all the way up there and with his head split open?” Denning asked then, to hide his discomfort.

“I don’t know”, Sarah lied. “I think I passed out after he punched me, and when I came around… _this_ had happened”, she finished.

Kermit kneeled next to the fallen man and checked his pulse to see if he was still alive. He was. He produced a pair of handcuffs and placed them around the man’s wrists.

“We’ll take him into custody if he ever wakes up”, he said, straightening up and flashing his badge in Denning’s face: “Griffin, 101st Metro”.

“Yes, I guess he will have to be admitted”, Denning said, trying very hard not to be intimidated by Kermit. “Actually…” he walked over to the room’s intercom and requested the presence of a team so that they could tend to the man. He ended the conversation and returned to Sarah’s bed, where he forced himself to ask Kermit:

“So… Are you and Sarah involved, or—?”

“ _Extremely_ involved”, said Kermit through a grin a white shark would have envied. “We’re actually engaged and, as you can see, soon to be parents”.

Sarah tried to look as if the engagement part wasn’t news to her.

“Well!” Denning snapped. “Congratulations indeed!”

Feeling like a lion that had just seized the biggest pride of the jungle, Kermit grinned broadly and shook Denning’s hand vigorously.

“Thank you, doctor”, he said. “Don’t worry; we will be _sure_ to send you a wedding invitation. We’re still trying to decide on the theme, you see? I am very partial to Shakespeare, myself: ever read Othello? I particularly like a quote from Act 3, Scene 3…: _“For she had eyes and she chose me”._ How does that sound?”

Kermit heard Sarah’s snigger from behind Denning, who nodded marginally, unable to give a coherent answer, and walked out of the room stiffly, as if someone had replaced his spine with a broomstick. Sarah burst into giggles after the door closed behind him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Alpha Male World Tour!” she said with a smile.

Kermit grinned yet again and bent to kiss her.

“Do you think so, really?” he said when he broke the kiss.

“Seriously? The only thing amiss was you peeing all over the floor!”

Kermit laughed heartily and kissed her again.

“So it didn’t make you want to have me right there and then?”

“Oh, I _always_ want to have you, Siegfried”, Sarah said huskily, and the lamp above wavered, “unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about that right now”.

“Come on, Sweetcakes, you have got to admit he had it coming”, Kermit said, still grinning, his morale shooting up another notch at Sarah’s words. Sarah smiled at him and said nothing, palming the side of her hospital bed to indicate he should sit there. He did, and she entwined her fingers with his, bringing them to rest on her belly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her softly.

“All better now,” Sarah said. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’d hoped—” and she stopped herself.

“Yes?”

“Well… I’d hoped the worst would be over by now. You know, Caine did say it’d go away once my body embraced the magic, and I thought it had, but if anything, I feel a little worse each day; I had it pegged to the magic thing, but maybe it’s just that there _is_ something wrong and I just didn’t want to accept it. Let’s see what the tests say”.

Kermit gathered her in his arms, careful not to pull the IV.

“It’s going to be OK, Sweetcakes”, he murmured, rocking her slightly.

She closed her eyes briefly, simply enjoying his proximity and the familiar scent of him, and then she forced herself to speak again:

“Who is that guy?” she asked distastefully, pointing at the still comatose guy on the floor.

Kermit seemed to jump out of a reverie.

“That, Sweetcakes, is Hagen Völsung”, he informed her somberly.

Sarah covered her mouth with her hands.

“Oh, shit, and I cracked his head open!” she cried in horror.

“Oh, yeah”, Kermit agreed, not really feeling sorry for the guy. “I wonder why they haven’t come to pick him up”.

Sarah reached for the nurse call button.

“Good evening, my name is Tammy, how may I help you?” said a pleasant voice through the intercom.

“Oh, Tammy, hi”, Sarah said, recognizing her, “It’s Sarah Greene, from room 413. Listen, we’ve got an unconscious man in the room… Doctor Denning called a while ago to have a team take care of him, but no one has been here yet. Do you think you could send someone so that they can take him to the ER, or, you know… the morgue? I don’t—”

“Right away”, said Tammy calmly, as if that was a request she got every day. Not five minutes have passed when two orderlies walked in, put Hagen Völsung on a stretcher and wheeled him out without batting an eyelash.

“Someone will be along shortly to clean up this mess”, said an orderly vaguely, pointing at the ruined monitor, the blood and the syringe on the floor.

“Actually, this is police evidence”, said Kermit suddenly. “Maybe the best course of action would be to move Sarah and the other patient into another room so that we can seal this one off properly. You know, for the CSIs”.

The orderly looked at Kermit with the same expression of a cow chewing on grass and then nodded slowly.

“I’ll see what I can do”, he said, and closed the door behind him. Kermit sprang into action when they’d left: he extracted some gloves from the box in the nightstand, put them on and took the needle and stored it safely away in a plastic evidence bag he took out of his blazer pocket. He then proceeded to swab some blood from the floor, and he likewise stored the cotton swab in a similar if smaller and thicker bag.

“Do you usually carry evidence bags with you?” Sarah asked curiously.

“Boy Scouts and mercenaries have the same motto, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said grinning as he took off the gloves and threw them away, “Besides, they make wonderful lunch bags. But seriously, now, I don’t want people at the 59th screwing this up, so I am taking my own samples to give to Nicky Elder”.

The orderlies walked back in just then, and without further ado, they unplugged the IV drip and put the bed to rights, wheeling Sarah and all of her medical paraphernalia outside and into a private and definitely more spacious room. Kermit was sure it was Dr. Denning’s doing, but seeing as it was on Sarah’s benefit, he decided to let it be.  Sarah stretched on the bed and closed her eyes when she felt lightheaded. Kermit appeared not to notice, and she heard him ask her something in a dimmed voice, as if it was coming from another planet.

“Sweetcakes?” she heard him closer this time.

Sarah blinked, willing herself to focus.

“Sorry”, she said disconnectedly, “I… I spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

“Never mind that. What just happened? You’re sweating and awfully pale”.

“I… got lightheaded just then”, she mumbled.

“I am getting Tammy” Kermit declared and he called for the nurse urgently. Within seconds, the room filled with people in scrubs who fussed around Sarah. Kermit was asked to wait outside, which he did reluctantly, sitting on a chair just outside Sarah’s door. He fidgeted with the assorted objects in his pocket, fighting the urge to go and get himself a cigar, until Skalany, Peter and Jody walked by, apparently on their way to Sarah’s old room. They stopped in his tracks when they saw Kermit.

“What happened, why are you out here?”

“She felt faint again”, Kermit said, “they’re checking on her and they kicked me out. Oh, and we had to change rooms, but I gathered some evidence before the CSIs from the 59th get here and screw it all up”, he added, handing Peter the bags of evidence. Peter looked at him in confusion.

“Oh, right, you don’t know… Hagen Völsung nearly killed Sarah like half an hour ago. She, uh— _defended_ herself and my guess is that Hagen has been permanently demoted to Vegetable in Chief, so we won’t be getting anything out of him. Here’s the needle he tried to use and some of his blood, give them to Nicky, would you?”

Peter took the bags numbly.

“Who the hell is Hagen Völsung?” Jody asked, just as Skalany added:

“So… she defended herself like she did at the restaurant?”

Kermit heaved a deep sigh.

“Hagen Völsung is one of the mercenaries after— after us”, he said, not wishing to go into details; “What _did_ happen at the restaurant, Mary Margaret?”

“It was _creepy”_ Skalany said, “I’ve only ever seen Caine do something like that”.

Jody agreed wholeheartedly and both female cops launched themselves into an excruciatingly detailed recount of what had transpired at the restaurant.

“That shield was something else, bullets just bounced off all over the place”, Jody said in a hushed voice: “she saved Captain Simms’s life… that first bullet she shot would’ve blown her head off”.

Kermit remembered suddenly when Sarah had done the same for him, yanking him out of a bullet’s path during Rykker’s Hunt and he closed his eyes.

“She saved her life twice”, Skalany replied. “Did you _see_ what she did with the— with the tube and the blade and the—” she shivered, unable to finish the sentence.

 _“Did_ I? I threw up my first porridge!” Peter exclaimed, turning a little green in the face just by remembering the scene: “that was… was….”

“Amazing”, Skalany said, “And she did it without batting an eyelash— in more ways than one”, she finished pointedly.

“It must take a great strength of character to do such a thing”, Jody agreed. “I don’t know if I could have”.

“Somehow I think you’re not referring to the technical part of it”, Peter quipped.

“Well, it—” Jody glanced at Kermit, not sure it would be wise to go on, but she shrugged and said it anyway: “You know the Captain, she is a lady, but— she was shocked, and I mean _shocked_ out of her skin. And she was looking at Sarah’s baby bump as if— well, it was obvious the news upset her, and Sarah caught on, she is not stupid. But Sarah was a total pro about it when all hell broke loose and she went out of her way to help Captain Simms, and then some. I don’t know if I could have done the same”.

“That’s my Sarah” Kermit said hoarsely.

“Is she going to be alright?” Peter asked.

Kermit was about to pull a Caine on Peter _(‘I do not know’_ ), when the door of Sarah’s room opened and Dr. Frankie beckoned them inside. The party of cops scrambled to their feet and walked inside meekly.

Sarah had been strapped to a cardiotocograph, and she had a second IV line in her other arm. A little color had returned to her cheeks and she did seem better overall.

“Hey, Wonder Woman” Skalany greeted her, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m all better now, thanks”, Sarah answered, and for the first time, Kermit actually believed her.

“She will be alright”, Dr. Frankie spoke: “she was dehydrated to the point she developed hypokalemia, which is why she had bradycardia”. The gathering of cops looked at him, nonplussed, and Frankie smacked his forehead in self-annoyance: “Sorry, I mean to say that her heart rate was too slow because her potassium levels were extremely low”.

“Is that dangerous?” Kermit asked.

“Well, it can be” Dr. Frankie accepted: “you see, potassium has a number of physiological process, including the metabolism of glucose and insulin, cellular homeostasis, vascular tone, and blood pressure control, among others. So, when the serum potassium levels are too low, the patient might develop alterations in those areas, such as extreme tiredness, weakness, muscle cramps— including uterine cramps, which can result in a preterm delivery—, and an abnormal heart rhythm, such as bradycardia, or, in the worst of scenarios, cardiac arrest”.

Kermit’s jaw dropped. The part about the preterm delivery and the cardiac arrest sounded worrisome enough, seeing as they were the only symptoms Sarah hadn’t developed yet.

“But don’t worry, Detective Griffin”, Dr. Frankie said then, “we’ve corrected the imbalance and the babies are doing just fine, see here?” and he walked to the cardiotocograph to show them the charts, where they could see a bunch of valleys and mountains in bright orange:

“This line here…”, and Dr. Frankie pointed at it, “shows uterine activity. As you can see, there is none so far. And these two other lines show the babies’ heartbeat: we have 146 and 150 BPM, both doing fine”. He smiled reassuringly: “so, from now on, Sarah will have to take a potassium supplement, remain hydrated at all times, and above all, avoid overexertion, so that this doesn’t happen again; so that means no more CPR and restaurant thoracotomies for you, Kiddo. Yes, Phil and Jeanie told me what you did”.

Somehow thinking it hadn’t been the CPR that had overexerted her, but the bout of magic, Sarah chose to bow her head in silent compliance.

“How is Captain Simms?” she asked.

“She’s still in the ICU” Skalany supplied, “and she is expected to make a full recovery… thanks to you”.

“It was a team effort” Sarah mumbled.

“You know what I mean”, Skalany said pointedly.

“That thoracotomy made all the difference” Dr. Frankie said, misunderstanding Skalany, “Half our job was done when she got to the ER”. Frankie patted Sarah on the shoulder and added: “Well, I must continue my rounds. I’ll leave you to it, shall I? If you need anything, you know where to reach me, Detective Griffin. Good evening!”

“Actually, we’ll be taking off as well”, Jody said, so they said their goodbyes and Sarah and Kermit were left alone in the room.

Kermit sat beside her on the bed and put a hand on her bulging belly, feeling the sporty movements of his children inside of Sarah. It still amazed him how they wriggled about, having thought all his life that babies just sort of sat in there wrapped in their cocoons, unmoving until it was time to be born. It was not, he mused, as if he’d had a lot of experience in such matters, after all. He had missed all that with Jim, and Laurie wasn’t that far along when—

He firmly suppressed that line of thought, blinking some moisture away from his eyes. It didn’t help that the next thing that came to his mind was the image of Ghost-Laurie, holding out her half-burnt and oozing hand to take him… forever.

“That wasn’t her, Kermit”, Sarah’s voice pierced through his thoughts. He kissed her hand tenderly.

“Doesn’t that count as overexertion, Sweetcakes?” he asked softly, deftly sidetracking from the subject.

“I don’t know I am doing it”, Sarah said, “images just… pop into my mind. I think active magic depletes my reserves a little more noticeably… which is funny, because I usually feel a little better when I channel it properly”.

“Like you did in that restaurant”, Kermit observed; “oh, yeah, the girls told me”.

Sarah lowered her eyes.

“Yet another innocent person who gets injured on my account”.

“Well, you know, technically, Karen shot herself; although CSIs are going to have a hard time explaining those particular cinematics”.

“Yeah, but it was me they were after” Sarah said, “the woman just got in there to have a bite, got the shock of her life seeing me and then she—”

Kermit caressed her hair softly, marveling inwardly at her words. Surely, the encounter must have been awkward for them both, yet Sarah said nothing of how she’d felt.

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Sweetcakes”, he said. “They’re all alive because of you”.

Sarah still seemed unconvinced, so Kermit tried dark humor, because he knew that would work.

“Funny how we both got to diss each other’s exes on the same day”, he said and Sarah snorted.

“Yes, but whereas you got to shower the room with testosterone and shake your lion mane at Denning in a very Shakespearean way, I got to slice a hole between Captain Simms’s ribs and thrust my fingers inside her chest so I could put a tube, so hand over your mercenary badge because you just got creamed”.

Kermit made a noise in his sinuses, thoroughly amused. He sometimes still forgot how Sarah had become so proficient in the arts of sarcasm and dark humor.

“How do you know that’s all I did?” he asked her innocently. “He might find a couple of IRS Officials at his door… Or we can have a malpractice lawsuit hurled his way…. Just a few clicks away, Sweetcakes!” he said genially, moving his fingers as if typing on an imaginary keyboard.

“And you’d do it, too”, Sarah said.

“Well, Denning should be glad I didn’t run into him when I was still in the… _business”,_ Kermit concluded, imitating Don Corleone’s drawl. Sarah sniggered, but was cut off mid laugh by a sharp pain in her abdomen.

“Ow!” She exclaimed, unable to help it. The cardiotocograph strapped to her belly beeped and registered a wave in the screen.

“What?” Kermit asked urgently.

“A contraction”, Sarah said through gritted teeth, riding the worst of it. It seemed to be over in less than a minute, and Sarah breathed out slowly through her mouth. She motioned Kermit to turn over the screen so she could see it, and then she slumped on the pillows.

“Just Braxton-Hicks”, she said weakly.

“Which is?”

“Training contractions”, Sarah supplied, “The uterus getting ready for delivery. We were told all through med school they didn’t hurt, but I am now inclined to revise that notion”.

“How can you tell the difference?”

“Very easily when you’re attached to that”, Sarah said, pointing at the cardiotocograph: “Braxton-Hicks are irregular contractions and they usually last less than a minute, whereas real contractions can last up to 3 minutes and they peak up to 100 mmHg in pressure as labor progresses”.

“Mmm”, said Kermit noncommittally.

“Hand me that blood pressure cuff”, Sarah said, her eyes twinkling. Kermit went over to the nightstand, grabbed the item and gave it to Sarah, a bit mystified.

“Well, this isn’t a hundred percent accurate, but it’ll do”, she said, placing the cuff around his arm. She then insufflated it at a hundred millimeters of mercury, and left it there for a whole minute, until Kermit’s hand was numb and purple, and then she deflated it. She did that six times in ten minutes, and by the time she stopped his arm was pulsing in agony.

“Now”, she said, matter-of-factly, “That’s the pressure with which the uterus contracts to push down the baby. So, imagine what I just did to your arm happening at that same interval of time in the whole of your midsection _and_ for about twelve to twenty-four hours in a row, and you’ll have a shrewd idea of the pain of delivery”.

“Holy shit”, Kermit exclaimed, rubbing at his throbbing arm. “All women go through that?”

“The ones that give birth do”.

Kermit looked at Sarah in awe; privately thinking not even the VC could have come up with such a creative way of torture: he was regarding all the women in his life with newfound respect.

 _“And though she be but little, she is fierce”,_ he quoted _sotto voce._

“Is that from A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Sarah offered dubiously.

“Oh, yeah! Act 3, scene 2”, he said, and seizing his chance, he took off his glasses, tucked them away in his blazer pocket carefully and fell on one knee, pulling out the little box he’d been carrying around with him since the day after the dinner party at The Gables with Marilyn. Sarah drew in a sharp breath when she realized what he was doing.

“It was long overdue, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said solemnly, boring deep into her eyes; he held up a hand to silence her when he saw she was about to protest: “I know you didn’t ask it of me. In fact, Sweetcakes, you’ve never asked anything of me… And you’ve given me more than I could have ever hoped for. I’ve come close to losing you more times than I can bear to think without losing my mind. I just… I’ll—” he choked up, “I— I will give you my life, if you’ll have it”, he finished hoarsely, holding up the little box.

Sarah trembled as a tear rolled down her cheek, because she knew that, as far as Kermit was concerned, that wasn’t a pretty catchphrase. The lights in the room wavered and the monitor keeping track of Sarah’s heartbeat began to beep rapidly.

“In my mind, we’ve been married since that day at Shambhala” she whispered, “when that light surrounded us… everything changed, forever. I was… awakened, moved, shattered, even; it would be easy to peg it to the Bonding, but that wasn’t it. It was you. That light of yours that you can’t even see”, and, proving he wasn’t the only one who could quote Shakespeare, she added tremulously: _“I shall follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well”._

Kermit sprang to his feet and gathered her in his arms, minding the IV lines in both her arms and other assorted appliances connected to her.

 _“For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation”_ he said, his voice raw.

Sarah was openly weeping when he placed the ring on her finger. They kissed deeply, Kermit’s lips wandering on her face to kiss her tears away. He put his hand on her belly and she intertwined her fingers with his.

_…Your chis are entwined…_

And the same thought echoed in their minds: _“And now we are four”._

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

William Greene had stopped by Brookside a couple of times — _sans_ Jillian, thank God—, to check on Sarah and to offer them his congratulations on the betrothal and his help. He had been the first “parent” to know of the engagement, and he was positively giddy with excitement; and as it turned out, for such an elegant fellow, he was extremely proficient at handiwork. He had spent more than one afternoon along with Kermit and Paul, sanding furniture, baby-proofing the house or simply bonding with the other two men in his daughter’s life, to outstanding results. Kermit had issued him a key to Brookside, something he had only done with Paul before, and though it wasn’t mentioned, it was plain that Jillian wasn’t included in the privilege.

“For Sarah’s sake”, Kermit had said, and William had nodded in understanding.

“Honey, do you think you could come to the driveway for a second?” he asked then. Sarah nodded in assent and stood up laboriously from the Barcalounger in the living room, where she’d spent most of her days since she’d been released from the hospital. Kermit hurried to help her. He led her to the front door and opened it, so that Sarah could see what William had brought: it was a brand new Lexus LX SUV, silver in color, with top-of-the-line interiors and equipment, and complete with two baby car seats and a huge red bow over the hood.

“Aw, Daddy, you shouldn’t have!” Sarah exclaimed, surprised.

“We talked about it, Kermit, Paul and I”, William Greene explained, “the Corvair is not a family car, but it is a _classic¸_ we wouldn’t want Kermit to get rid of it; so I figured we should just get you a new car. After all, Honey, it’s not as if you can fit two babies and all their accouterments in that tin can of yours!”

“What’s wrong with my car?” asked Sarah incredulously.

“Dear, it is _small_ and _old!”_ William exclaimed, “I gave it to you when you started Med School, I cannot believe you still have it!”

“Why wouldn’t I? It still works, doesn’t it?”

William laughed heartily.

“When Jillian still drove a car” he explained to Kermit, “she’d made me change it every six months because it had “gone out of fashion”. As you can see, Sarah _does not_ take after her mother!”

“After neither one of them, from what I’ve heard”, Kermit added, leaving the “thank God”, unspoken. “Thank you, William, it means a lot to us”, he added, warmly, shaking his hand.

“Yes, thank you, Daddy, it is beautiful and you’re right, I’m having a hard time squeezing into the car myself as it is!”

“Should we try it?”

And they had gone for a ride in the new SUV, and ended up having ice-cream downtown, browsing through baby stores and simply being the family Kermit had always wanted and had never dared to hope he’d get.

 

Sarah wanted to wait until after she’d given birth to have the wedding, but all the females close to her had wailed in despair —sounding eerily like the riding Valkyries in Wagner’s classic, Kermit had pointed out—, and they had had none of it.

“You’ll have your hands _full_ with two babies, Darling! You won’t even have _time,_ least of all the _energy_ to plan a wedding!” Jillian Greene had pointed out shrilly.

 

Mrs. Greene, intent on having a pompous wedding at all costs, had enlisted the help of Skalany and Jody so that they could help her make Sarah see reason, and they had gone over to Brookside, where currently Sarah was still in relative bedrest. Jillian stopped in her tracks when she entered the sitting room and realized Annie, Lyn and Kelly were already there, fussing around Sarah as if they were entitled to, but she managed to sway them to her side of things and soon they were all pestering Sarah so that they could have the wedding, and _pronto._

“I’ll need a freaking circus tent to walk down that aisle”, Sarah argued, “that is, assuming I can walk at all; it’ll be a sight! You, Dad, Annie and Paul pushing a wheelchair with the tutu-wearing hippo from Fantasia in it, wrapped in gauze and silk!”

The younger girls tried not to laugh at the mental image, but failed.

“Sorry, it’s just the way you say it!” said Jody, red in the face and still snickering.

“I know, I know”, Sarah accepted.

“Well, Darling, the same could be said if your wait until after you give birth… That flabbiness is going to be hard to snap back from!” said Jillian, apparently unaware of her rudeness.

Skalany’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead and mouthed “ _wow”;_ privately thinking she’d finally found someone _worse_ than her own marriage-obsessed, nagging mother. Sarah, for her part, closed her eyes and fought off the need to fire a scathing reply.

“Hey, let’s see the ring again!” exclaimed Kelly, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. Sarah smiled at her and took it off her hand to hand it to Kelly.

“You’re weird”, she observed.

“Gee, thanks. Why is that, again?” asked Sarah.

“Well, most women simply hold up their hands to show it off! I know Lyn did! She’d do _everything_ with her left hand after she got engaged so that everyone just _had_ to look at the ring”.

“Shut up, I didn’t!” Lyn replied and Kelly laughed.

“Oh, yes you did!” she replied, sticking out her tongue at her older sister.

“Could _I_ see the ring?” Jillian interjected, cutting through the sisterly exchange with a strained smile. She might have enlisted the Blaisdell women’s help, but she wasn’t sure she liked it. She took the ring from Kelly’s hand and examined it critically:

“Well, this is simply _gorgeous!”_ she gushed, “Victorian, if I am not mistaken?” she turned it over, “white gold band… princess cut center stone… I have _never_ seen a black diamond of this quality! And the halo of rose cut agates…. It’s just so _classy!”_

“Well, Mother, I didn’t know Tiffany & Co. had hired you as an appraiser”, Sarah said.

“Oh, Darling!” said Jillian dismissively, “don’t be silly. A woman in my position has to know good jewelry when she sees it. This ring is _simply_ amazing. _How_ can he afford something like this?”

Sarah closed her eyes again in a resigned expression. She had long since given up on trying to understand why did her mother feel the need to ruin any benevolent comment with a passive-aggressive, devaluing jibe, but it still bothered her to no end, especially when the subject of such deprecation was the man she loved. Granted, she didn’t know the first thing about jewelry, and other than the fact that the ring was indeed gorgeous, Sarah hadn’t given much thought to its monetary value; to Sarah, the ring’s worth rested solely in the words Kermit had spoken when he gave it to her, and in the ring’s own history, so she made it known at once.

“He’s not a slob, Mother”, Sarah said sternly, “but, if you must know, the ring belonged to Kermit’s mother… and his grandmother before her. It had been kept in a safe box in a bank ever since Kermit’s mother died, intended for his bride”.

“But I thought— Kermit had already been married”, blurted out Lyn.

“Yeah, but apparently Marilyn didn’t exactly approve of the marriage, so she refused point-blank to use her key: they each have a key to the safe box, see, and only with the two of them can the safe be opened. And since Marilyn didn’t think the, um… bride was worthy of her mother’s heirloom, well…”

“You mean Jenna or Laurie?” Lyn inquired.

“HE’S BEEN MARRIED TWICE?” screeched Jillian, Jody and Skalany in unison. It could have been comical had it not been for the fact that Jillian seemed two seconds away from morphing into full-blown Prude Bitch; Jody and Skalany were mostly surprised at the statement, but they weren’t keen on passing judgement, or so it seemed to Sarah.

“Yes, he has”, Sarah replied, mostly addressing her mother: “and, before you ask, he divorced Jenna and Laurie died”, Jody and Skalany gasped in sympathy, but Jillian wasn’t moved.

“Oh, _Darling!”_ she wailed, leaving the “what are you marrying _him_ for?” unspoken but clearly understood.

“So…? I am guessing it was Jenna Marilyn didn’t like?” Lyn insisted, trying to redirect the conversation to a slightly less rocky subject.

“That’s right”, Sarah said hurriedly. “Kermit and Laurie got married in Hawaii, so he didn’t even remember the ring”, she went on; “and, well… when Marilyn met me… she, um— she called Kermit aside and gave him her key”.

“Awwww!” cooed her friends, half-sisters and Annie, all at the same time. Jillian’s expression remained sour. Sarah rolled her eyes and gave up on her mother as a bad job.

They kept on dishing out suggestions and ideas for the wedding; Jillian was all about hiring a wedding planner and having the reception done at the embassy:

“Your father can pull some strings”, she said pompously; and Sarah, who had rather envisioned a small ceremony with only the closest of friends and perhaps with Caine performing the actual wedding, was all but hyperventilating at the thought of a lavish, Rykker-style party with hundreds of unknown guests ogling at her pregnant belly.

“No”, Sarah said firmly, “no embassy, no five-hundred guests commenting on how big I look and how I just _couldn’t_ wait until after I was married to get pregnant, and _definitely_ no goddamned Chicago Symphony Orchestra playing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March!” the china rattled on the coffee table at Sarah’s outburst and she panted slightly, holding her hand to her belly.

“Darling, relax”, Jillian said with a tense smile, “it was merely a suggestion… Of course you have veto power on everything—”

“Good! I’m vetoing the hell out of your Royal Wedding” Sarah said, “I want something intimate and _simple,_ Mother, where we can celebrate our love in peace with people who actually care about us”.

Skalany gave Sarah a warm smile, inwardly wanting to stand up and clap; she had never mustered the strength to do that with her own mother, and it was very satisfying to see someone who could and did. Skalany raised her eyes and saw Kermit leaning indolently on the door frame, smiling from ear to ear; Sarah hadn’t seen him, since her Barcalounger was facing the other side, and Skalany wondered how much had Kermit heard.

“Good evening, ladies”, he said pleasantly, startling them. He walked over to Sarah, whose whole face had lit up at the sound of his voice, and he kissed her softly on the lips; and then, just because he could do it and because he knew Jillian would be nettled, he bent lower to place a kiss on Sarah’s bulging belly. She caressed his hair gratefully.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, soundly ignoring Jillian’s sputters.

“Much better now”, Sarah said and she winked at him, “how was your day?”

“Oh, we got a lead on— …a case”, he finished somewhat lamely, and he raised an eyebrow, certain that Sarah had read between the lines: “I actually need to speak to Rykker about it, so I will leave you ladies to it. But, I must ask you not to outstay your welcome”, he added, looking at Jillian pointedly, “Sarah needs to rest, doctor’s orders, not mine; but I fully intend to stand by them”.

He kissed her again before excusing himself and leaving for his study. Sarah followed his progress with a light smile.

“You should see yourself”, Kelly said, all starry-eyed.

“You should see the both of you”, Skalany echoed.

“That’s what real love is all about”, agreed Jody, albeit a bit sadly.

“Oh, my, would you look at the time!” Jillian exclaimed shrilly, “James is picking me up so I can go to Mrs. Haverford’s for tea! So!” she added briskly, “where are we on that wedding planner, Darling? Just think about it, it will give you more time to focus in— well, other things”, she added demurely, “I mean, you can’t very well run about planning the wedding on your own with that giant belly on tow”.

“I didn’t swallow a watermelon, Mother”, Sarah said scathingly, “I am growing two human beings in there. But… you’re right; I can’t do it by myself, especially if I am to remain on bedrest. So… alright, go ahead and hire him”, she said at last. “But no luxuries, Mother! Go for something _small_ and _simple_ , please”.

“How did I ever raise such a hippie I’ll never know”, Jillian said ruefully, “but fine by me, have it your way, Darling. I just want you to be happy!” and she pinched Sarah’s cheek as if she was three years old.

The embassy town car arrived at that very minute, and Jillian Greene spotted it through the window.

“That’s my carriage!” she twittered. “I must dash. Do take care, won’t you, darlings?” she addressed the rest of the women gathered on Sarah’s sitting room: “I’ll be in touch and I will send the wedding planner your way soon, sweetie! I’ll see myself out!”

And with that, she was gone.

Skalany snorted loudly when the front door had closed.

“Wow, is she a handful!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, tell me about it”, Sarah said, rubbing at her belly.

“How did you turn out so laid back?” Annie asked wonderingly, speaking almost for the first time.

“It’s anyone’s guess”, said Sarah, “mutiny on my part, I think. I _so_ didn’t want to be like her!”

The women laughed.

“Now” said Kelly, rubbing her hands together conspiratorially, “let’s plan the _real_ wedding!”

 

 

 

It soon transpired that a lifetime of being a diplomatic _socialite_ had served Jillian Greene well. She managed to acquiesce to most of her daughter’s wishes, and, with a little help from Marilyn, Annie and her daughters, Jillian had everything on point in record time for such an event, from the flowers to the venue, the catering, the tuxes for the men and matching dresses for the bridesmaids, the music, the wine and Sarah’s wedding dress.

“Oh, Darling, you got _another one?!”_ she wailed in despair at Sarah’s fitting, when she caught sight of her daughter’s newest tattoo: “The seamstress is going to have a hard time hiding that thing up!”

“I don’t want to hide it, Mother”, Sarah replied patiently, “Just leave the dress the way it is already, all I need is growing room in the middle!”

“That you do”, Jillian said critically, “if we don’t wrap things up soon you’ll be giving birth at the reception”.

“I’m only 28 weeks along, Mother”.

“Of course you are”, Jillian said condescendingly.

 

They had agreed on having the reception at the Regency Hotel —which Rykker had thoroughly approved of when Sarah called him to invite him to the wedding, since that was the hotel he always stayed at when in Sloanville—, and Sarah had gotten her wish when Caine agreed to perform the wedding ceremony.

“I am… honored”, he had said, bowing deeply at Kermit and Sarah when they asked him.

 

So everything was essentially all set, the wedding was only two weeks away, and Sarah was dutifully practicing walking on high heels on her living room one afternoon when the phone rang. She wobbled towards the nearest extension and picked up.

“Hello?”

There was a stunned silence on the other side of the line, and then a deep male voice stammered in a Southern drawl:

“Oh— Um— Howdy. I’m sorry, I was trying to reach Kermit Griffin, but I must have the wrong—”

“Oh, no, no, you’re not mistaken, this is his number, but he’s just not here right now. May I take a message?”

“Well…” the voice on the other side hesitated, “I don’t know if I should… To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Sarah Greene” Sarah said simply, and then added as an afterthought, “Oh, right, I’m his… his _fiancée”._

“ _His—?”_ the man sputtered, “he’s gettin’ _hitched?_ Dagnabbit!” he exclaimed, his Southern drawl thicker than Jed Clampett’s. He let out a guffaw that reminded Sarah strongly of Kermit, “I am sorry, Ma’am, that was rude. Well, I guess I can leave a message, then, although I am not sure this is something I should say over the phone…”

Sarah waited until he was done and then she said:

“You’re Jim, aren’t you?” again, the man fell silent for a while before replying:

“Tarnation! He _did_ tell you about me, how about that!”

“You have the same laughter”, Sarah said.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never heard him laugh”, Jim said, musingly, “but yes, I am Jim Hellstrom, Ma’am, pleased to make your acquaintance”.

“Pleased to meet you too, Jim”, Sarah said happily. There was something in that southern accent that evoked that reaction, “Call me Sarah, please. So, what can I do for you?”

“Straight to the point, I like that”, Jim said. “Well, Sarah, I need to let Kermit know some… ah… developments regarding… a certain blackmailer merc— um, guy”.

“The one who held you two captive in Vermont, I assume?”

“Son of a gun, he _does_ tell you everything! What did you enchant him with?”

“Oh, I am bewitching like that”, Sarah said lightly, and Jim laughed.

“Listen, I really can’t talk about this over the phone, and I can’t go over to his place because I am currently stationed in Canada, but I’ll be on leave of absence in two weeks, so I could swing by Sloanville two Saturdays from now and meet up, how’s that?”

“We’re getting married in precisely two Saturdays from now”, Sarah replied, and then she added brightly, “hey, why don’t you come?”

“You’re asking me to attend _your_ wedding, Ma’am?” Jim squawked, reverting to formality out of sheer surprise.

“Yeah… Shouldn’t I?”

“You mean you don’t mind me being there?”

“Why should I?”

“He did tell you what happened, didn’t he? I mean, between him and my—?”

“Yeah, he told me”.

“And you really don’t mind?”

“I really don’t see why I should” Sarah said, genuinely nonplussed.

“Well, that is very gracious of you”, Jim said. “If it really is OK, I would love to attend”.

“Well, that’s settled, then!”

“It would appear it is”, Jim agreed, still amazed. “Thank you, it— it really means a lot”.

“It is all my pleasure”, Sarah said, and they ended the conversation cordially.

 

That night when Kermit got home from work, he found Sarah bustling around in the kitchen, wearing her snorkel mask while she gave the final touches to a mouthwatering beef Wellington.

“That smells heavenly, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said from the threshold, “what’s the occasion?”

“Well… I kind of need to tell you something that could give you quite a shock” Sarah said, nibbling on a fingernail.

Kermit feigned distress, bringing a hand to his chest in the gesture a thousand soap opera actresses made when they were given bad news:

“Oh, you’re going to tell me you’re really my father, aren’t you!” he wailed dramatically.

Sarah laughed at his performance, took off her snorkel mask and kissed him slowly on the lips.

“Mmm, Sweetcakes…” Kermit mumbled into her mouth, deepening the kiss, “It must be… something… _really_ bad… if you’re… displaying the full… artillery”.

“Uh?” Sarah said, emerging from the kiss quite dazed herself.

“I said…” Kermit kissed her neck, “that I might just have to—” he bit her ear gently and she shivered in delight, “punish you for being so naughty… and… _extract_ the information out of you, how’s that sound?”

“You’ll have me singing a full vocal aria if you keep that up”, Sarah panted seductively.

 _“That_ is something I do look forward to”, Kermit said, nibbling down the column of her neck, “hearing you sing again, that is. But for now… I shall content myself with the dulcet tones of you screaming my name in ecstasy”.

He was as good as his word, and soon they were loving each other frenziedly, rolling over one another, chests heaving, groaning and whispering with anticipated need until everything around them exploded with fierce pleasure, Sarah arching against him, possessiveness surrounding them, as they chanted they affirmation together.  It was the first time they’d made love since Sarah had been discharged from the hospital —and since they’d gotten engaged—, and the strength of their intimate re-acquaintance had them both reeling in a swirl of emotions.

 As Kermit lay in bed, panting, holding an equally exhausted Sarah in his arms, his back still stinging pleasantly from the raking of her fingernails on it, he asked her slyly:

“So, Sweetcakes, want to sing me what happened?”

Sarah laughed heartily.

“I would if I had a breath to spare”, she answered and Kermit puffed out his chest proudly.

“You always make me feel so good about myself when you say things like that”, he said, only half-jokingly.

“Hey, I aim to please”, she said, “As do you, obviously”.

Kermit kissed her gratefully.

“Seriously, though…” Sarah said, wriggling a little in his arms so that she could slip a pillow under her bulging belly, “I… might have invited Jim to the wedding”.

“Jim?” Kermit repeated, nonplussed, “We don’t know any— Oh, _that_ Jim!” he added, catching on, “you did? I can’t believe you did that”.

“God, Kermit, I’m sorry! I know I should have asked you first, it’s just— It’s just that he did sound desperate to get a hold of you, and he could only be here on _that_ day of all days,  so I figured—” Sarah said hurriedly, feeling embarrassed.

“No, no, you misunderstand me. I mean I am surprised that you _wanted_ him to come to the wedding”.

“He said just the same thing” Sarah said, “why wouldn’t I want him at our wedding?”

“Well, Sweetcakes… most women wouldn’t want such a blatant reminder of their future husband’s dark past crashing into the happiest day of their lives”.

“ _Past_ being the key word here, o’ mine betrothed”, Sarah said and Kermit laughed, unable to help it: “come _on,_ Kermit, he’s your _son!_ Granted, you didn’t raise him and you found out he existed by mere chance, but say you’d divorced Jenna when Jim was five and you only got him on weekends and then you only saw him briefly on Christmas because he had enlisted… do you really think I wouldn’t have invited him to our wedding and to meet his siblings in that case?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But nothing, same difference, he is your son, and if he wants to come, I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

Kermit swallowed hard and kissed Sarah’s forehead tremulously.

“You know you sounded just like Annie”, he observed, “That’s what she said to Paul when he told her about you”.

“I remember” Sarah said, “so there you have it, if she could have it in her to welcome me into her family, the least I can do is do the same for your son”.

“I don’t deserve you”, Kermit said.

“We deserve one another, my dear”, Sarah said haughtily, with a very good imitation of Scarlett O’ Hara’s drawl.

“I love you, you wench, I hope you know that”, Kermit said, holding her to him.

“I do know, my love. And I love you more”, she added, kissing him squarely on the chest. Kermit shuddered.

“And… what— what did he say?” he asked, somewhat dreading the answer.

“Well, he seemed a bit shocked at the thought of you actually getting married, but he was really happy that I asked him”.

“He was?” Kermit asked, surprised.

“Yes, he was”, Sarah assured Kermit, kissing his shoulder lightly.

“Well, what do you know?!” Kermit exclaimed wonderingly. He fell silent for a while and then he added: “do you know it might actually turn out for the best in more ways than one?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m hoping that, when Jim learns of your own circumstances and he sees your interaction with the Blaisdells, he will have it in his heart to be as gracious to me as you were to Paul… and I might have my oldest son back into my life, after all. I’ve been trying to get closer to him over the years… especially after— after Vermont, but I— well, you know me… and he’s… wary and reserved when it comes to us”.

“Well! I wonder who he gets that from!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes suspiciously bright. Kermit chuckled and hugged her to him once more.

“Thank you, Sweetcakes”, he murmured, “for being my saving grace”.

 


	20. Chapter 20

The ceremony was held _al fresco,_ in one of the private gardens of the Regency Hotel. The archways had been profusely decorated with flower crowns and aromatic vines that had the malevolent tendency to try and strangle passersby; Chief Streinlich eyed them distrustfully each time he walked past them, and he had even taken to snip off a few twigs whenever he felt the homicidal plant was inching too close to him.

The sun was setting, a bright full Moon was up, a soft September wind blew, and everyone had taken their respective positions near the aisle. Caine was waiting under the tallest archway, wearing a robe of purest white, like the one the Masters wore at Shambhala. Peter stood nearby, along with Rykker and Chief Streinlich, waiting for Kermit, who soon made his appearance, wearing a fitted gray tux with a burgundy vest and tie. He had forgone his green glasses, and had smoothed his wild mane of salt-and-pepper hair away from his face. He had managed to keep his bold & thick beard intact, despite Jillian Greene’s protests, because Sarah had blown up a couple of centerpieces when Jillian “suggested” that he should shave it. Smiling at the memory, Kermit walked slowly towards the archway and stopped, body slightly turned waiting for Sarah to join him.

The bridesmaids walked out of the summerhouse, beautiful in their floaty burgundy gowns: Jodie and Skalany first, then Kelly and Carolyn, with Annie and Jillian closing the ranks; lastly, Mitch and Jossie pranced awkwardly down the aisle showering it with petals. A _uillean_ pipe and a set of strings began to play “Amazing Grace” as the processional began, and suddenly, the soft murmur in the garden came to a silence when Sarah walked out of the summerhouse, flanked by Paul on her left side and William Greene on her right. They were both wearing the colors of their Irish clans, at her request, but Kermit couldn’t have described their tartan cuffs and neckties even under torture; he only had eyes for Sarah.

She was dressed in vaporous layers of creamy ivory silk with a band of silver embroidered knotwork along the hem and the wide sleeves. She had parted her hair at the middle, and then braided a thin strand in each side, twisting them to meet in the back of her head, letting the rest to cascade heavily half-way down her back. Skalany and Jody had fastened a small flower crown on top of her dark head, and she had forgone the veil altogether; Jillian had yowled at that, saying it wasn’t fashionable, but Sarah didn’t budge, and in Kermit’s opinion, she was absolutely rocking the fair Celtic damsel look; the soft fabric of her gown outlined her pregnant belly all too well and enhanced her Earth-Fairy appearance. It was breathtaking.

Her fathers escorted her as she walked towards the archway with a furious blush but a wide smile, and stopped next to Kermit, who smiled broadly at her. Caine bowed deeply and then he clasped Kermit’s right hand and Sarah’s left.

 _"_ We gather here this night in a celebration of love. You, Sarah Greene and Thee, Kermit Griffin, stand here before your friends, your family and the forces of the Universe to join together as the beginning of a family. For before there can be three, there must be two."

Kermit had to fight very hard not to laugh when he heard Sarah mutter:

“Oops”.

Apparently, Caine had heard her too, for he was smiling when he reached for their hands to join them together, making Kermit and Sarah face each other.

"Kermit”, Caine said softly, “do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her for as long as you both shall live?  
“I do”, said Kermit, his deep bass voice resonating through the garden, as he placed the wedding band on her finger: “For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation”, he added, repeating the quote from _Henry VI_ he had said when he had proposed to her.

“And, Sarah”, continued Caine, “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love and to hold, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?

“I do”, replied Sarah, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, hand trembling slightly as she slid the ring on Kermit’s finger: “I shall follow thee and make a Heaven of Hell, to die upon the hand I love so well”, she replied with her own quote.

In the background, Jillian’s sharp intake of breath and Marilyn’s sobs could be heard. Caine shrugged and concluded:

“If there be anyone present who may show just and lawful cause why this couple may not be legally wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace”.

Kermit turned back menacingly, daring anyone to open their flaps. His gaze lingered uncomfortably on Jillian Greene, but she kept her mouth shut.

“May the exchange of rings symbolize your love” said Caine then. “Walk slowly, see clearly, and embrace each other in pleasure and in pain. Together, seek truth. May the forces of the universe bind you together and make your spirits as one.” he concluded pointedly, and then he ad-libbed Master Dao’s final words when they’d been Bonded in Shambhala: “Your love has been sowed, honed and sealed”, he said. “It shall link you in this and every life. It shall be your weapon against the darkness”, Kermit felt Sarah shiver, and he felt goosebumps breaking in his own skin.

“Forever and a day”, they both said in unison and thunder rumbled far away, a lightning searing across the twilight sky. It was eerie.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife” Caine said solemnly. “You… may kiss your bride”.

“Oh, yeah!” exclaimed Kermit flippantly as he put his worries aside, and pulled his new wife to him to kiss her passionately in front all and sundry.

 

The guests broke in thunderous applause.

_≈§≈_

 

The reception Hall shimmered with joy, music and wonderful aromas; elegant guests were dancing and laughing, obviously enjoying the party tremendously. Sarah had rather envisioned a small affair, but it had been nothing short of impossible to trim the guest list, what with her biological family, her adoptive family, all of their friends combined, Sarah and Kermit’s own hand-picked guests and some important acquaintances that had made the cut, and now were enjoying the ensuing festivity; Sarah and Kermit glided among the tables to greet their guests, and so far, Jillian had behaved admirably, even taking Annie around to introduce her to prominent members of the Diplomacy Society and staying mum when she caught sight of Lo Si shuffling about, herding the caterers and making the _chef de cuisine_ wail in despair. Sarah had told the Ancient he was a guest of honor, but the old man just couldn’t keep his nose out of the kitchen, it seemed.

Sarah’s friends from high school and med school offered them their best wishes, and they couldn’t resist a jibe or two about Sarah’s pregnancy, but on the whole, people had avoided the subject completely, which suited them just fine. Most of Sarah’s friends from the hospital had changed shifts so they could attend, and Frankie was happily regaling Lyn and Kelly with hospital stories that had them laughing while they swigged down _champagne._

“What do you know, maybe we’ll welcome Frankie into the family”, Kermit observed, looking at the way Kelly interacted with the handsome redhead doctor.

“Well, it’s nice to see you outside the hospital halls!” Frankie said, shaking Kermit’s hand and then hugging Sarah warmly: “congratulations, Kiddo, it is a lovely wedding!”

Kermit and Sarah thanked him graciously and then they went to greet some of Paul’s old friends, who regarded Kermit as a surrogate son and expressed their joy at his marriage to such a lovely lady; and lastly, they stopped by the distinguished acquaintances Jillian and William had invited, where they also received best wishes and warm hugs. Finally, they stopped by the table where their friends from the precinct sat, and they congratulated the newlyweds profusely, commenting the beauty of the décor, the wonderful music, the magnificent food and the seemingly endless supply of _champagne_. Blake had inquired about the buffet, to which Kermit replied they had decided not to have one, lest Blake leave the rest of the guests without a bite. Streinlich had laughed his head off at that.

“And the Pillsbury Dough poster boy says what?” Blake replied slyly, and they all roared with laughter at the mortified Chief of Detectives.

“I want to get married, Mary Margaret”, Jody said dolefully, like she did at every wedding they attended.

“Are you proposing, or—?” Skalany replied, and that got them going again.

“No, but seriously though!” Jody exclaimed, “Can you believe Kermit has been married _three_ times now, and all of them before I got to remarry at least once?”

“Yeah, let’s hope this one sticks”, Peter said, patting Kermit strongly on the back: “because if you diss my little sister, you’ll have me to answer to! TO THE NEWLYWEDS!” he roared, and he raised his flute of _champagne._

“Cheers!” the rest of the table screeched and chugged down their own glasses. 

Skalany, who looked like she wanted to be married so that she could start breeding the next Caine generation right there and then, wondered dreamily who’d be the next one to be married.

Hastily, as if lightning-stricken, all the remaining single males in the table cleared their throats and looked away. Blake even started whistling innocently, and Jody, Skalany and Sarah rolled their eyes knowingly.

“I’ll never marry again, so help me God”, said Chief Streinlich fervently.

 “We’ll see when Sarah throws the bouquet”, Skalany said evilly, “there’s a first row place with my name on it”.

“Don’t let Caine hear you, he might smite the poor bouquet with the power of his mind”, Jody supplied helpfully.

Kermit and Sarah smiled and walked away, to continue their greeting expedition. Kermit eyed her thoughtfully, as he suddenly realized she looked pale and tired, and that she was blinking repeatedly as if trying to will the drowsiness away.

“Sweetcakes?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah”, she gifted him with what was unmistakably a weary smile, and grabbed a glass of chilled water from a passing waiter.

“You look exhausted”, he insisted.

“A bit, yes”, she smiled again.

“Do you feel nauseated?”

“Funnily enough, no, I haven’t had any nausea since last week”, Sarah said.

“Are the babies giving you a hard time, then?”

She smiled yet again, and Kermit suddenly wanted to just take her away to the Nuptial suite and do very wicked things to her. His libido was weird like that, it seemed.

“It seems that Gonzo and Fozzie’s idea of celebration is beating the hell out of my ribs”, she said, not actually meaning to be funny, but Kermit chuckled helplessly. Those nicknames had stuck, and boy, was Jillian pissed!

“Yeah, you can laugh, you don’t have two Muppet Babies jumping all over your bladder”.

Kermit laughed even harder as they ran into Rykker, resplendent in his jet black tux and white silk scarf.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Griffin!” he boomed genially, hugging them both in turn. “You have my most sincere congratulations on your successful taming of this male shrew, young lady. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness and, above all, peace”, he added, and raised his glass in toast. Kermit and Sarah answered the salute with their own glasses.

“Hear, hear” Kermit said fervently, “peace above all”.

“I come bearing gifts”, Rykker added, producing two plane tickets and a small keychain with five or six keys: “I own a very secluded condo in a private beach in Maui”, he told them in a low voice, “and it would be my honor if you’d honeymoon there”.

“Oh, wow, Mr. Rykker, that’s—” Sarah began, stunned.

“Very generous of you” Kermit finished, holding out his hand to shake Rykker’s in thanks.

“I would suggest you wait until the mess that brought us together is over”, Rykker added conversationally, “but of course, that is your prerogative”.

Kermit and Sarah nodded in agreement.

“I think it would be best”, Kermit spoke. “Maybe we could even wait after Sarah gives birth. After all, we have babysitters lining up around the corner!”

Rykker smiled lightly.

“A proper honeymoon, then”, he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Rykker”, Sarah said sincerely, and hugged him. She was the only one that could get away with that where Rykker was concerned, Kermit noted.

“Could we please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Griffin on the dance floor?” a voice boomed through the mic, startling them all. The guests broke into merry applause and Kermit made a gesture to the wedding emcee to remind him of what they’d talked beforehand. The emcee nodded.

“Oh, right!” he said, “We have a little change of plans… What I mean to say is, could we please welcome the Bride and Mr. William Greene on the dance floor!”

The crowd cheered again, if a bit nonplussed at the change of dancing protocol; however, it soon was forgotten when Sarah and William stepped into the dance floor and began to dance to a very moving rendition of Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath my Wings”. Kermit leaned idly against a column and watched the tender scene with a light smile, rubbing at his eyes absently. He felt footsteps approaching and looked sideways to locate the source.

“Howdy, P— Kermit”, Major Jim Hellstrom stammered awkwardly. Kermit acknowledged him with a nod of his head and held out his hand.

“Thanks for coming”, he said.

“Hey, thank her”, Jim jerked his head towards the dance floor, “I still can’t believe she wants me here”.

Kermit smiled again.

“I can”, he said softly. Jim scratched his head dolefully.

"That's my brother or sister in there, I gather?" He asked, taking in Sarah's pregnancy.

"You gather correctly", Kermit said, not elaborating further.  Jim turned to look at the couple on the dance floor, and as Sarah’s hair swayed with her movements, he caught a glimpse of her winged tattoo and he whistled admiringly.

 “Wow, _that’s_ a nice piece of—”, he began, but Kermit turned on his heels swiftly and pinned him down with just a glance.

“Hey, watch it” he said warningly.

“—of _ink_ , Kermit, you didn’t let me finish!” Jim said hastily. “That must have hurt like a bitch!”

“Exactly her words when I asked her”, Kermit said amusedly. Jim chuckled.

“So!” Jim exclaimed flippantly, “A tattooed girl half your age? You really plunged head-first into the middle age crisis, didn’t you?”

Kermit snorted.

“She’s not half my age”, he said, choosing to ignore the rest of the jibe.

“How old is she, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“She’s thirty-one, you nosy brat”.

Jim smiled cheekily.

“Oh, well, at least she’s not _my_ age, that’d be weird!”

 

On the dance floor, the song had ended and William and Sarah had merged into a tearful hug. The guests were clapping and cooing excitedly.

“And if we may now call Mr. Paul Blaisdell to the dance floor?” voiced the emcee, and Paul stood up from the high table, a bit puzzled.

“Come on, Dad, you got to dance with the Bride as well”, Sarah encouraged him, and the crowd broke into a surprised whisper. Apparently, there were still some guests who weren’t aware of Paul and Sarah’s relationship.

“Go on, Dad!” Kelly urged Paul, and with a small nod of his head, Paul walked forward and, bowing deeply, led Sarah through the chords of Nancy Sinatra’s “It’s for My Dad”. Paul looked at her in awe, and she grinned, even as she wiped a tear from his face.

“Who chose the songs?” Jim asked.

“She did”, Kermit replied.

“Well, she knows how to pick’em, poor fellas are bawling their eyes out”, Jim observed.

“You don’t know the half of it”.

“Why didn’t you dance with her first? I thought it was customary”.

“I… have a surprise in store for her”, Kermit said.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, eh!”

Kermit leaned his head to the side, but didn’t reply.

“Great catch, by the way”, Jim said cheerfully. “I mean, no disrespect, but she’s a knockout!”

Kermit smiled, and for a minute there the resemblance between them was too obvious to miss.

“Oh, yeah”, he agreed, “She is”.

“So! You want to walk me through the dynamics there?” he pointed at the dance floor.

“Well… the man she first danced with is her adoptive father”, Kermit said: “and she’s now dancing with Paul, her— biological father”.

“No shit, you mean _your_ Paul is _her_ Paul?” Jim sniggered, “how wicked is that!”

“Very wicked indeed”, Kermit replied.

“I didn’t know you had it in ya, to be honest”, Jim cheeked him again. “And… how long has she known?”          

“About Paul?”

Jim nodded.

“The best part of this year”.

“Oh, I see. And— how did she take it?”

“Pretty well, all things considered” Kermit answered, “Paul told her of their relationship a day after some thugs came close to kill her trying to get at him”.

Jim whistled.

“Not how I would have liked to find out”, he said.

“Tell me about it. But she— well, Paul told her the reasons he’d had to leave her be when he first learned of her existence… you know the ones, you’ve heard them… And she… just cut to brass tacks”, Kermit remembered, “She put two and two together, didn’t make a fuss, gave him a hug and called him Dad. Just like that. Of course, it helped that the Blaisdells were keen on embracing her like one of their own, but on the whole, she was very gracious about the whole ordeal”.

“Wow, she reacted _way_ better than I did”, Jim said thoughtfully.

Kermit snorted.

“No arguments there”, he said, remembering the hard punch Jim had delivered to his face on their first encounter. He massaged his jaw absently. “I think it still hurts”.

Jim swallowed hard.

“How— how about now?” he asked, and kept talking hurriedly, as if fearing he’d lose his nerve: “I mean, I know I can’t— _we_ can’t make up for lost time, but I’d like— I mean, if you’re up for it… I’d very much like to— to—”

Kermit turned to Jim and embraced him tightly, putting into the hug all the things neither of them could put into words. From the dance floor, Sarah nudged Paul softly on the ribs.

“Will you look at that”, she said with a huge smile, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“What?” asked Paul in confusion.

“Oh, right, you don’t know… Well, I’ve got a feeling you’re about to find out”. Sarah took Paul’s hand and walked him over to where Jim and Kermit stood.

“Hello, Jim”, she greeted him warmly, “thank you so much for coming!”

“Thank you for having me”, Jim replied, kissing her hand. “Congratulations to you both for… you know…” he gestured at the hall and at her belly awkwardly.

“Thank you”, Sarah smiled at him again. Paul was looking from one to the other with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Paul” Kermit said formally, “I’d like you to meet my son, Major Jim Hellstrom”.

Paul concealed his surprise out of long habit, and he held out his hand to Jim.

“It is a pleasure, young man” he said.

“Oh, no, no, please!” said Jim charmingly, “It is _my_ pleasure to finally meet Kermit’s biggest hero”.

Paul blushed and Kermit grinned wolfishly. Whatever faults the twerp he’d engendered had, he was remarkably well bred. And he had mastered the southern charm like nobody’s business.

“So, Mama” Jim was saying then, “You don’t mind if I call you Mama, do ya?” he smiled when Sarah said she didn’t mind, “So, am I getting a brother or a sister?”

“We don’t know yet, maybe even one of each”, Sarah replied, putting a hand to her belly.

“Twins, eh! Wasting no time, Papa?” he exclaimed happily, clapping Kermit hard on the shoulder. “Hey, maybe you should name one of them after me!”

“Why would I have two sons named Jim?” Kermit observed.

“Oh… right! Didn’t think of that” and he smacked his head in a boyish gesture that had Kermit’s signature all over it. Then, suddenly, Jim’s eyes darkened and he added:

“Listen, I hate to rain down your parade, but, sadly, there _is_ something I need to tell you”.

Kermit nodded, and led the way towards a distant table, gesturing the members of the Dragonswing to follow him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little smut in the end

They reached the table closely followed by Rykker and Katya, who, Sarah observed, was channeling her inner Tinkerbell with a beautiful pale green gown. She didn’t bother with congratulations, staring instead directly at Jim.

“Ma’am”, said Jim, touching his forehead with two fingers. Katya’s eyes widened at the sight of the handsome Major clad in his customary Mess Dress and she smiled seductively.

“And who might you be?” she asked.

“Major Jim Hellstrom, Ma’am, at your service”, Jim said bowing deeply. “Oh, and… Kermit’s long lost son”.

Katya almost choked on her _champagne._

“WHAT?!” She yelled, looking at them in disbelief; Jim looked like a southern version of Christian Slater, with dapper, arched eyebrows, sleek, light brown hair he had inherited from Jenna and a devilish grin that touched his hazel eyes, and lit up his whole face; physically, he looked nothing like Kermit —save for the smile and some corporal expressions—, but on the other hand, he rather resembled David Griffin, his late paternal uncle.

“How— _how—”_ she began, but was cut off by the arrival of Caine and Peter. Caine took one look at Kermit and Jim and bowed deeply, with his hands forming a yin-yang.

“We… cannot destroy kindred”, he said in his staccato voice, “our chains… stretch a little sometimes… but they never break”.

“John Lennon?” asked Peter.

“The Marquise de Sévigné”, Caine replied, “you’re getting better, my son!” and he laughed heartily.

“Wait, you guys are related?” asked Peter.

“Oh, yeah!” Jim said, in a perfect impersonation of Kermit, “I’m Kermit’s firstborn”.

“You’re Kermit’s _son?”_ wailed Peter, his jaw dropping.

Rykker’s eyes also widened in disbelief, but he refrained from commenting. Kermit nodded in assent, but didn’t speak.

“Well, if you aren’t full of surprises” Peter went on in a hushed voice. “You guys barely spoke to each other in Vermont, I never would’ve guessed! Did _you_ know, Sarah?”

“Yeah, I knew”, she replied with a smile.

“Who do you think invited me to this wonderful affair?” Jim piped in, hugging Sarah around her shoulders, “but enough about me, I don’t want to steal the newlyweds’ thunder. Mama here was gracious enough to include me in the celebrations because I have some Intel regarding Straker. Remember the reason why I was taken to that compound in Vermont?”

“Your uncle at the Pentagon”, said Peter swiftly. “He was head of the investigation regarding Dessert Storm’s war crimes, right?”

“That’s the one, General James Albion Hellstrom. Dad’s— my _other_ Dad’s older brother”, Jim said quickly, with a small nod to Kermit. “I was named after him, actually”.

“Your middle name is _Albion_?” Kermit chuckled, thoroughly amused. He hadn’t known _that._

“Yeah, _Kermit,_ gotta problem?” Jim replied cheekily, making them all burst into incontrollable guffaws.

“You just got owned!” Sarah cried with mirth. Kermit smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek, while he murmured in her ear:

“You know you’re going to pay for laughing at your lawfully wedded husband, don’t you?” he teased her.

“Oh, I am counting on it”, she replied playfully and winked at him.

“Y’all need to focuse”, Jim cleared his throat loudly, to hide his mortification at the newlyweds’ exchange, “like I was _saying_ , as of two weeks ago, Uncle Albion has been summoned to a General Courts-Martial, appointed by the Secretary of Defense himself, accused of sedition and high treason”.

Kermit whistled.

“I’ll be damned”, he said.

“And so will he if we don’t do something”, Jim agreed miserably.

“So… you’re saying this is Straker’s doing?” Paul asked.

“Well, it only makes sense”, Jim said. “I was his leverage, and when I escaped, with your help”, he nodded at Peter, Caine and Kermit, “Straker lost his power over Uncle Albion”.

“So he moved the extortion game up another notch”, Kermit said.

Jim nodded.

“He must have gotten to a very heavy member of the Chair Force” Kermit snorted at the derisive way active officers addressed the “desk fliers” in High Command, “and he must have him by the balls— ah, shucks! Beg pardon, ladies!” Jim exclaimed in chagrin, suddenly remembering he was in polite company.  “I meant to say that having a JAG General court-martialed is not an easy feat, especially with Uncle Albion’s record. I mean, the process is still preliminary, but things could get very nasty”.

“I’ll say”, Kermit agreed.

“But what do they expect to accomplish?” Peter asked wonderingly.

“Money, transference of power, political instability, mayhem… you name it”, Paul answered.

“Loss… of balance…” Caine intervened, “between… good and evil”.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” asked Jim, his southern drawl thicker than ever, which always happened when he was startled. And Caine’s statement had surprised him, indeed. Jim vaguely remembered the old Shaolin priest from the compound: he had been thrown into Straker’s Cooler and he had managed to survive five days in it without food or water, and to top it all, he had used his confinement to finish digging _Kramer —_ the code name the prisoners had given the tunnel under the Cooler—, basically with his bare hands… which eventually led to everyone’s escape.  Still, Jim hadn’t thought much of it, having it pegged to the fact that maybe Caine was one of those Fakirs one saw in India who could swallow swords and walk over hot coals.

“Come again?” he insisted, at Caine’s shrug, “what do you mean good and evil?”

“Good… and evil are… indissoluble beings”, Caine offered, “that coexist in a… delicate balance in… everything around us. The universe… this world…and our own lives… are the stage for a… ceaseless struggle between… good and… evil. We must… never let up…, confronting evil at… every turn… lest the equilibrium be…broken”, Caine shrugged and looked at his audience in turn, as if trying to drive his words into their minds with his eyes: “Atherton’s thirst for revenge… has skewed this balance… and it leans perilously towards their end”.

“Who the hell is Atherton?” Jim asked.

“The mercenary who is behind all this”, Rykker said.

“By… allying himself with the Shadow… and… sacrificing Gunnar’s humanity… Atherton has deeply upset the balance”, Caine concluded.

“But I thought I was going to take care of that?” Sarah piped in, rubbing at her belly.

“ _You?_ Aw, Mama” Jim cried, his Texan gallantry getting the worst of him, “No offense but you’re in no fit state to…”

“She’s our own PBIED, kid”, Kermit said amusedly.

“What? What do you mean?”

Sarah sighed and motioned them to clump lower on their seats.

“Huddle up, huddle up, I don’t want anyone else to see if I screw it up”, she said. They did as they were asked, and Sarah held up her left fist, splaying her fingers wide in a swift movement. Three empty flutes of _champagne_ exploded one after the other with a musical sound. She turned to look at Jim and said:

“That’s what he means”.

“Dagnabbit!” exclaimed Jim, “How’d you do that?”

“Oh, it’s a long story”, Sarah said, “but suffice it to say I’ll be handling the evil mastermind and his Shadow… Hopefully after Fozzie and Gonzo are born so I won’t be carrying them on tow”.

“Fozzie and Gonzo?” Jim screeched, “aw, Mama! You’re wicked!” and he laughed heartily at the nicknames. Everyone else joined him, except for Caine; maybe it was Sarah’s imagination, but she rather thought that Caine had averted his eyes at her last words.

“I don’t think Papa here is too pleased”, Jim observed, echoing Sarah’s thoughts.

“You’re right, I am not”, Kermit agreed. “I happen to like my wife in one piece, if possible. Here’s hoping it won’t come to that”, he added, raising a glass in toast.

“Cheers!” they all exclaimed, rising their own glasses as well.

Caine didn’t join the toast.

“Is it just me or Mr. Mysterious here is acting a bit shady?” Jim whispered to Katya.

“You mean, more than usual?” Katya replied.

“HEY!” Skalany’s screech cut through the exchange, “you guys are hogging the newlyweds!”

Skalany approached the table, dragging Jody and Chief Streinlich with her. Chief Streinlich gestured at Jim’s Mess Dress and gave him the thumbs up (forgoing the salute as they were indoors):

“I used to wear my Blues to all formal events when I was active”, he said with a cheeky smile, “Always a major panty dropper!”

“Hey, whaddaya know, that’s what they call me!” Jim exclaimed gleefully and Kermit choked on his _champagne_ as they all laughed. The damn twerp could definitely give Peter a run for his money.

“Can you believe this guy, Sweetcakes?” he chortled.

“Well, I know where he gets the smartassery from, that’s for sure!” Sarah snickered.

Skalany looked at them, nonplussed, but she decided not to comment, pursuing instead her original line of thought.

“Are you guys going to dance or what?” she asked, “I’m sure it wouldn’t be proper if I snatched the Groom so that he’d dance with his forlorn female partners instead—”

Jim bowed deeply to the female detective:

“Charmed, Ma’am, I am sure. ‘Fraid Papa’s card is full at the moment, but perhaps you won’t mind dancing with his son instead?”

“WHAAAAT?” screeched Skalany, Jody and Streinlich in unison.

Kermit held up his arms in surrender and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I should just go up there and say it on the mic?” he said, pointing at the band stand. Sarah sniggered, and sure enough, the emcee spoke just then:

“Can we please put our hands together for Mr. and Mrs. Griffin as they dance for the first time as husband and wife?”

Sarah rubbed at her belly and tiptoed playfully away from the dance floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t, wifey!” Kermit exclaimed when he noticed, making the rest of the table laugh, “you gotta dance with your lawfully wedded husband, it’s in the vows, I checked!” And he turned to mock-chase her around the table, until he hugged her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Come on”, he said, leading her by the hand to the dance floor. The guests whistled and cheered loudly as they began a slow dance to the chords of Joe Cocker’s “You are so Beautiful”, a slow, simple song that required neither skill nor gracefulness, so they both managed to go through it quite smoothly, lost in each other’s eyes, one of Kermit’ large hands lovingly cupping the curve of Sarah’s belly. The dance ended with a final twirl of the piano, and Kermit held his wife to him.  Sarah stood on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his lips, and the guests applauded wildly.

Kermit held up his hand to the emcee, and he nodded in assent. Kermit turned to look at Sarah, with his devilish grin firmly in place, just as the guitars began a very Celtic melody, accompanied by soft flutes, resonating _bodhráns_ and high-pitched notes of fiddle. Kermit held out his arms to her and lead her through the music, just as the singer began the first verse:

_Black is the color of my true love’s hair;_

_Her lips are like some roses fair;_

_She’s got the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands,_

_And I love the ground whereon she stands._

 The crowd broke in an electrified ovation, exclaiming in awe; Sarah was looking at Kermit with the doe-eyed expression Katya had so mocked in London, as tears ran down her cheeks. Kermit smiled at her, and held her close to him, as the song continued:

_I love my love,_

_And well she knows._

_I love the ground whereon she goes,_

_I wish the day, it soon would come;_

_When she and I could be as one._

_For black is the color of my true love's hair_  
 _Her face so soft and wondrous fair_  
The purest eyes  
And the gentlest hands  
I love the ground on where she stands.  


_For black is the color of my true love’s hair!_

  
The guests continued to cheer loudly and, as the song neared to an end, Sarah disentangled herself from Kermit’ arms and, gifting him with a mischievous smile, walked away from him. Kermit raised his eyebrows in mute inquiry, and Sarah blew a kiss at him as she stopped in front of the stand where the band was; they ended the song to fervent cheers and applause, and Sarah whispered something in the band leader’s ear. He nodded promptly and addressed his musicians, as Sarah took a mic out of its tripod.

“Oh, my GOD, she’s going to _sing!”_ Jillian wailed from the high table. She sounded both overjoyed and disgruntled. Kermit knew the reason, of course, and he wasn’t at all surprised when he felt moisture creeping up his eyes.

“Indeed I am, Mother”, Sarah said through the microphone, her voice amplified a thousand times through the Hall: “There are a lot of brave men gathered here today: My Dad, my _other_ Dad”, people laughed, “Major Hellstrom, Chief Streinlich, Peter, Mr. Rykker, Caine” she looked at each one in turn; “And of course, all of my colleagues!” the doctor tables cheered loudly, “not to mention the brave officers that are here today!” the precinct’s gang catcalled, nearly outdoing the doctors. Sarah smiled and continued:

“And I am privileged and humbled that they’ve honored us with their presence on this special occasion. However…” she added, rubbing at her belly, “today I would like to honor a _very_ special man… A man so honorable, so strong and so brave that I am very proud to call my husband” the applause from the Precinct’s table was deafening, and Sarah waited until they fell silent again to carry on: “I seem to recall you once told me you’d like to hear me sing again”, she said, looking straight at Kermit, “so… Handsome, this song is for you: it describes you so perfectly that I couldn’t have found a better wedding gift for you if I tried. I love you”, she added, and she blew him a kiss.

Everyone went quiet in anticipation, wondering just what Sarah planned to do exactly.  The music began smoothly, letting Sarah bid her entrance as she walked to stand in the center of the dance floor.

_To dream the impossible dream,_  
 _To fight the unbeatable foe,_  
To bear with unbearable sorrow,  
To run where the brave dare not go.

Her voice was clear as a bell and it rang with a strong tessitura, akin to the one Kermit had heard at Rykker’s music room, but more powerful and pure, with a ringing that pulled right at people’s sensitive fibers.

“Ho-ly shit!” Skalany gasped in her table, “Did you know she could sing like that?”

 

Sarah took a few steps, in tandem with the music, and Kermit’s fascinated gaze followed her every movement, holding his breath when she locked eyes with him and carried on.

 _To right the unrightable wrong_  
 _To love pure and chaste from afar_  
To try when your arms are too weary  
To reach the unreachable star

She raised the tone half an octave, managing a moving _vibrato_ that went through people’s souls:

 _This is your quest, to follow that star,_  
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far  
To fight for the right without question or pause  
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause!

_And I know if you’ll only be true to this glorious quest  
That your heart will lie— peaceful and—”_

Sarah’s voice caught up in her throat and she indicated the band they should just keep going.

“I can’t sing that part, sorry”, she explained.

It didn’t matter; half the guests were openly weeping now, including, to all of the precinct gang’s amazement, Paul and Chief Streinlich; the tough, usually dysphoric ex-Marine seemed totally incapable of stopping the waterworks, and Paul was moved beyond words. Jillian’s mouth was hanging open, William Greene was desperately looking for a handkerchief, and Rykker wiped at his streaming eyes surreptitiously with his silk scarf as Sarah went for the grand finale, beginning softly as if she was singing in Kermit’s ear and not in a hall in front of 500 guests:

_And the world will be better for this_  
that one man scorned and covered with scars  
Still strove with his last ounce of courage

_to reach the unreachable star_

_Followed his dreams,_

_The impossible dream,_

_And to reach…_

_The unreachable star!_

Her voice had risen to prima donna heights, strong and moving beyond words, as she sang the last verse among soft notes of violin. People broke in sincere applause around the Hall; and sure as hell there wasn’t a dry eye among the guests, Kermit noted dimly, as he walked towards her in a sort of trance and closed his arms around her, kissing her fiercely.

“That was… _was_ —” he stammered, but he couldn’t go on, so he simply held her to him utterly overcome by emotion. “Do you— really— you— see—”

Sarah kissed him lovingly.

“I really see you like that”, she whispered solemnly, understanding what he had tried to say.

Kermit tightened his grip on her, rocking slowly on the same spot while the band got ready to continue playing.

“Well, Princess!” Katya’s voice pierced their reverie a while later, “Is there nothing you can’t do? You’ve just made a whole bunch of hardened mercenaries bawl their eyes out!” she added, quite teary-eyed herself. Sarah smiled at her graciously.

“Well, thank you, Katya; that means a lot”, she said.

“It was beautiful!” piped up Marilyn, coming to a halt next to them, still wiping tears from her eyes, “oh, Sarah, thank you!” she wailed, pulling her into a tight hug and sobbing freely on Sarah’s shoulder.

“Oh, Marilyn, don’t cry”, Sarah said, a bit mortified at the reaction she seemed to have elicited in everybody, “it wasn’t meant to make people cry!”

“Well, maybe there is something in your voice” Katya said, “get my drift, Snow White? Maybe you should consider breaking out in song after all when faced with—”

“Thank you, Katya! That will do!” Kermit cut in quickly, although his train of thought had been along the same lines.

“Aw, leave Mama alone, it was beautiful!” Jim intervened, still sniffling, coming to hug Sarah tightly. “And thank you for thinking I’m brave; as it is, it took a lot of courage for me to come here tonight. Ain’t that right, Papa?” he concluded, with a nod to Kermit.

Marilyn looked at him wildly through her tears, for half a second totally certain that David had come back from the dead.

“Excuse me?” she said, just as Mitch exclaimed:

_“Papa?”_

Kermit sighed.

“Marilyn, meet your nephew, Major Jim Hellstrom”, he said resignedly: “Jim, this is my sister Marilyn and her daughter, Mitch”.

“What— How— _Nephew?”_ Marilyn sputtered.

“Long story, Sis”, Kermit said patiently. “I’ll tell you later”.

Marilyn opened and closed her mouth like a drowning fish.

“Charmed, I am sure”, Jim said gallantly, kissing her hand and Mitch’s in turn.

“Yes… um… likewise”, said Marilyn, disconnectedly, “do forgive me…” she added, and walked out of the dance floor towards her table numbly, followed by Mitch, who yelled gleefully:

“Wow, Mom, Cousin Jim is _hot!”_

Kermit and Sarah laughed inevitably. Jim tottered behind his newfound aunt and cousin, still appalled at Marilyn’s reaction, which was fortunate, because they could see Jillian approaching them, and her hypothetical reaction to Jim was one neither of them wanted to see.

“Kermit, you _must_ tell me how you managed to get her to sing”, Jillian said just then, gliding regally to where they stood, breathtaking in a gown of deep plum, “I never could get even a “happy birthday” out of her!”

“Well, Mother, it takes doing something that Kermit is _extremely_ proficient at and you’re not”, Sarah replied calmly and Jillian’s mouth fell open.

“SARAH! Don’t be so bold!”

“What?” Sarah replied, innocently; “he asked nicely, Mother, I meant he asks things nicely whereas you just boss people around! Take your mind out of the gutter!”

Indeed he had asked nicely, just before making love to her passionately —which, incidentally, was _another_ thing Kermit was extremely proficient at—, but then again, Jillian didn’t need to know _that._

 

The party was still going strong, and Sarah knew from experience it would surely last until the wee hours of the morning, but she was completely exhausted. A few guests had left already, including the Blaisdells, and they had showered them with a fresh cascade of good wishes and congratulations, by the end of which Sarah was having a hard time just standing upright for the farewells. She sat down gratefully when a friend of the Greenes left at last, and Kermit, standing behind her, massaged her shoulders lightly, almost making her purr. He caught sight of Rykker signaling him to get close, and he bent to press a kiss to Sarah’s cheek.

“I’ll be back soon to get you to bed, Sweetcakes”, he promised, and walked briskly towards Rykker.

“I shall adjourn to my quarters momentarily”, Rykker announced, “but I wanted to offer you a piece of advice first, not for your Bride to hear, I am afraid”.

“Oh?”

“Do you know the verse she couldn’t sing just then?” Rykker said, in an apparent non-sequitur.

“What?”

“The song she sang to you, making everyone in the room succumb to a bout of the sniffles”, Rykker insisted. “Do you know what the verse she choked on says?”

Kermit denied with his head.

“Well, if memory serves, it goes thusly:

_And I know if I'll only be true to this glorious quest_ _  
that my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I'm laid to my rest”_

Rykker looked at Kermit pointedly.

“The whole song is sang in the first person”, he added, “she said _‘your quest’_ instead of _‘my quest’_ to make it about you, so of course you can understand why she couldn’t go on with the next rhyme either way”.

Kermit nodded somberly, his heart aching.

“So, my newlywed friend, my advice to you is this: _set your affairs in order._  I know, it’s not something a man wants to hear at his wedding, but you’re a sensible fellow, and you now have a wife and two children to look out for”.

Kermit nodded again, unable to swallow the knot in his throat.

“She _does_ know the extent of your wealth, does she not?”

Kermit shook his head.

“She’s… never asked”, he said hoarsely.

“Well, aren’t you just lucky like that”, Rykker said bitterly. “I can’t remember the last time a woman approached me not having my assorted assets in mind”.

Kermit rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Well, you do flaunt them all over the place”, he observed.

“That I do, old chap; that I do. Well, you’ll have to tell her _that_ perk of the mercenary life sooner rather than later”, Rykker concluded, “In the meantime… take good care of her. To your good health”, he said and swigged down the remains of his glass of scotch.

 

Kermit walked slowly back to where Sarah sat and flopped into the chair next to hers.

“Ready to go, Sweetcakes?” he asked her softly.

“Am I ever” she replied weakly and tried to stand to no avail. Kermit stood up quickly and helped her up, offering his arm to her for support. Sarah glanced at the dance floor wistfully and said:

“Do you think it’ll be awfully rude if we just slip out? I can’t walk through the crowd saying good bye to all and sundry, I think I just might give birth in the middle of the dance floor if I do”.

Kermit made an imperious gesture to the emcee and he walked over to the mic to announce loudly that the Bride and Groom would be leaving the Hall but that they begged everyone to remain and continue to enjoy the party. The lingering guests clapped wildly and Sarah and Kermit exited through the main doors slowly.

“Goin’ so soon?” Jim said pointedly behind them.

“We’re dead on our feet” Sarah said with a light smile.

“Mmm-hmmm”, Jim said noncommittally. “Listen, before you go, I wanted to tell you I’d like to offer my assistance in your… current predicament”, he finished, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had overheard; “like I said before, I’m on leave of absence as of today, and if there is anything I can do to help, I’d be delighted to oblige”.

“Thank you, Jim, that’s very generous”, Kermit said.

“And we have plenty of room at Brookside”, Sarah added brightly, “You’ll be our first houseguest!”

“Oh, no, come on!” Jim protested, “You’re newlyweds, it would be bad form”.

“We’ll put you in the spare room in the basement so you can’t hear us”, said Kermit cheekily.

“Ewww, Papa!” Jim exclaimed, sounding like the teenager he had been not that long ago.

Kermit and Sarah chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that”, Sarah added, “I’ve been known to shatter windows on occasion!”

Kermit laughed harder than ever.

“Yeens, seriously! TOO much detail! I’ll just stay here at the hotel!” Jim declared, his face as red as a radish; and with a final string of giggles, Sarah and Kermit made their way towards the Nuptial suite.

 

~§~

 

 They walked into the Nuptial suite arm in arm, moving slowly, Sarah leaning her head on Kermit’ shoulder, eyes closed, allowing him to lead the way.

She fell onto the bed, sighing out loud, too tired to readily move or to take in the beautifully decorated room. Kermit settled beside her and put both hands to her belly, smiling as she giggled, and moving a little to press a kiss to the side of her neck. The babies kicked around, and Kermit grinned again against her skin.

“They never give you a rest, do they?”

“They sleep for about… forty-five minutes every… five or six hours”, Sarah mumbled drowsily. “But they must have… active dreams… as well…”

Kermit kissed her neck again.

“You are tired”, it was an affirmation, and she did not deny it.

 _“Creamed”,_ she whispered. She shifted in his embrace and threw her own arms around him. “The truth is I’ve been having uterine activity all day long. Not— not regular, but—”

“Oh, Sweetcakes, why didn’t you say something?”

“It happens quite often now”, Sarah said dismissively. “As long as I don’t go into labor, I just have to suck it up”.

“Oh, Sarah...”

“Don’t worry, it’s all right”. She remained silent for a while and then added. “Will you help me undress? I can’t even raise my arms”.

“Certainly”, Kermit answered, a little huskily.

His hands moved hastily over the ivory layers of silky clothing, leaving her in nothing more than a sleek light blue _negligée_ that fell smoothly to her knees, stretching ever so slightly over her rounded belly. He eyed her, surprised at the garment.

“It was a gift from Skalany” Sarah explained. “My something blue, see?”

“That woman is naughty”, Kermit said, moving to kiss the top of her breasts over the fabric of the gown.

“You don’t know the half of it”, Sarah laughed, settling her head on the pillows. Kermit moved to get rid of his tux, vest and shoes, and when he turned his attention to Sarah he realized she had already dozed off.  However, she stirred as she felt his hands caressing her shoulders when he pulled the bedclothes over her. She sensed the weight of him next to her on the bed and she crept into his arms, putting her head on her usual spot on his chest. Kermit’s hands glided through her shiny tendrils as hers caressed his chest and sides, and they remained like that for a while, until Sarah spoke in a low voice.

“You know, for a minute there, I thought you were going to have them play _Ride of the Valkyries”_.

Kermit chuckled.

“Nah”, he said, “that is our secret code name, my fierce Brünnhilde”.

His hand slid into her gown to cup one of her breasts, larger and fuller than ever. He flicked his thumb over the nipple gently. Sarah moaned softly.

 “Siegfried?” she said apologetically, after a little while, “I… I am too tired for a— um, a proper Wedding night”.

“Sweetcakes—” Kermit began, but Sarah put a finger to his lips to silence him.

“However…” she murmured and maneuvered awkwardly so that she was straddling him. She began to explore every inch of his skin until she had him panting and moaning incoherently, choking out her name in between ragged gasps for air. His hands tangled in her hair, pressing her head to him, wanting to feel more of her and those delicate caresses that were driving him crazy. She soon reached his erection, and Kermit tensed unwillingly. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed fellatio in the past; what with the _femme fatales_ he occasionally bedded only performing the task perfunctorily, blowing the mercenary’s dick in hopes to extricate something other than spunk out of him; or Jenna, who had always refused point-blank to put her mouth anywhere near his penis, or even Laurie, who had tried once or twice, only to stop in mid-motion to run to the bathroom and be thoroughly sick; which was why Kermit usually diverted Sarah’s attention from that specific area, focusing on her own pleasure instead so that she wouldn’t feel rejected. But this… this was something else entirely, he thought incoherently; the woman was damn near worshiping him.

“S—Sarah―” he choked out.

“Shush”.

Her lips wandered over his thighs, her sleek hair brushing his skin, making him shiver, amazed at the pleasure he got from both sensations, and she moved further down, shifting her body awkwardly until she found a comfortable position.

“Oh, FUCK!” he growled when her lips touched ever so softly the length of him, and his hips bucked up helplessly. She smiled at that, and continued her ministrations, placing gentle, teasing kisses on his erection, flicking her tongue out every now and then to swirl it around him slowly.

“You― killing— me…” he moaned.

She took the hint and stopped teasing him. She took him in her mouth, and his hips shot up as his hands grabbed the pillows around them for support. His knuckles turned white and the muscles of his neck stood up as he threw back his head, blush spreading on his body as he thrust into her mouth. She had a strong grip on him, pressing him to her palate with her tongue, and she suckled him with a steady rhythm, alternating with nibbling kisses and strokes of her tongue across his frenulum, which left him light-headed. Of course, it didn’t take long for him, and soon enough he was releasing himself into her throat, his face transfixed with pleasure so intense it almost hurt. He cried out loud, his body convulsing as she steadied him with her hands. For half a minute he thought he would pass out, but, with a final growl of ecstasy, he collapsed back into the bed, panting.

He felt her lick him clean distantly, and it took him a while before he could find enough coherence to speak.

“Come… come to me”, he rasped.

Sarah simply nodded and settled herself back into his arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around her and sighed raggedly.

“Holy shit, Sweetcakes, wonders will never cease!” he said admiringly, and he was rewarded with his wife’s thoroughly self-satisfied look.

“Glad you enjoyed it”, she said smugly.

 _“Tremendously”_ Kermit assured her vehemently and moved to kiss her, getting a not-that-unpleasant shiver at the taste of him in her mouth. They pulled away slowly, reluctantly, but air was becoming a matter of life and death. Kermit heard her stifle a yawn; soon she relaxed in his arms, and they drifted into a much needed slumber in each other’s arms.


	22. Chapter 22.

Kermit heeded Rykker’s advice, and a few days after the wedding he headed for the office of the attorney who handled all of his and Paul’s legal matters to update his will and testament. Though he knew Sarah was a remarkably sensible woman, he chose not to upset her by telling her what he was doing: she’d learn about it when and if the occasion for it arose, as the main heir and sole usufructuary of his none-at-all-despicable fortune. True, she also had no clue as to the extent of said fortune, and suddenly Kermit understood why she seldom mentioned her multiple assets, as he hadn’t been able to find a scenario in which he just could blurt out: _“Oh, hey, by the way, I’m rich!”_ to her.

Once the matter of succession was dealt with, Kermit and Jim devoted their energies to track down whomever Straker had blackmailed into accusing General Albion Hellstrom of sedition and high treason, but it was only after a conversation that at first didn’t seem to have anything to do with the problem at hand that they’d begun to see the light.

True to his word, Jim had kept his room at the Regency Hotel, so as to allow the newlyweds some privacy; but he had taken to spend almost every afternoon with them, either just keeping Sarah company after her shift and her training with Caine, or browsing through the deep dark web with Kermit in hopes of finding something that they could use to save his uncle’s neck: so that particular afternoon they were all sitting in the solarium enjoying a beautiful September evening and having iced tea and assorted sandwiches, when the conversation shifted to the very similar circumstances surrounding both Sarah and Jim’s births and subsequent adoptions.

“I didn’t react well at all when I first found out ‘bout Papa here”, Jim said musingly; “Ma and Pa were good to me and all, and I am very thankful for them both, but on the whole I think what pained me most was to learn that I wasn’t actually blood-related to Uncle Albion… We’ve always been so close, I am like the son he never had… So I took it out on Kermit when he first reached out” Jim slapped his father’s jaw cheekily, “it didn’t occur to me then that I hadn’t lost my family, just gained a new one. But then again, being a pigheaded snotnose, thinking wasn’t precisely my strong suit”.

Kermit snorted.

“Well, in all fairness, there wasn’t precisely a family for you back then”, he said, caressing his wife’s belly softly, “but I always felt it was rather unfair I wasn’t given a choice in the matter when— you were put up for adoption. Granted, she thought I was dead, but still, there was Marilyn or Paul even”.

“Deep down, I don’t think she thought you were dead, Papa”, Jim said, “she wanted to cut off all strings and start from scratch, so she thought that’d be the best way to do it, fooling herself into thinking you were dead and ditching you via a Dear John letter. I’ve seen it happen more than once in the Force… rather heartless, if you ask me” Jim briefly considered asking whether Kermit would have taken him if given the choice, but he didn’t dare to.

“I wonder if the rest of my mother’s family knew Paul or who my father was, for that matter”, spoke Sarah, “I wonder what would have happened if they’d given him the chance to take me in”.

Jim nodded. He understood completely.

“They did know him”, Kermit said, “actually, it was Jing-Li’s brother the one who told Paul about you”, he finished slowly, his eyes widening suddenly: “No… it couldn’t be! What did they stand to gain?”

Jim and Sarah looked at each other, nonplussed.

“You’ve lost us, Papa”, Jim said.

Kermit sat up abruptly.

“Paul told me, when you were first attacked, Sweetcakes, that he’d run into Jing-Li’s brother at a diplomatic _soirée_ at Rykker’s, a couple of years ago; apparently, the guy is a top ranking member of the US government, and it was at that party that Paul was informed of your existence”.

“And?” Jim asked, still confused, just as Sarah’s expression cleared in understanding.

“A _top member_ of the US government, Jim”, she said, “who knew I was Paul’s daughter, probably the only person that did… and he attended a party hosted by Rykker, another mercenary”.

“Yeah, OK, but I still don’t see—”

“He probably told Straker about me as well”, Sarah hinted, “If he knew Rykker, he must have known Straker, it’s only logical. Or, he could have been coerced by Straker into spilling the beans, after all, that’s what Straker _does_ , isn’t it? Don’t you see?” she added, for it was obvious Jim still didn’t get it, “it’s my mother’s brother _, he’s_ in the government and I’d bet anything _he’s_ the one behind your Uncle’s Court-Martial!”

Jim’s mouth hung open and Kermit nodded in assent.

“My thoughts exactly, Sweetcakes”, he said, “great minds think alike”, and he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips.

“Yeens, PDAs!” exclaimed Jim, mortified; he found it both endearing and terrifying to watch.

“What, your father never kissed your mother in front of you?” asked Kermit.

“He never even _touched_ her, I don’t think, Kermit”, said Jim fervently, “I believe that’s the reason I’m adopted!”

Sarah laughed at that and turned to kiss her husband again, this time deepening the peck just a tad.

“Well, get used to it, sonny boy”, she said, “This house is abundant in PDAs”.

“So I can see”, Jim said, “Funny, I really didn’t have you pegged for the affectionate type, Papa”.

“Oh, I don’t know about that”, Sarah said, “just about everyone in the 101st has at least one anecdote regarding your father’s softer side, Chief Streinlich told me about this one time when they rescued a kidnapped girl and Kermit just knelt next to her and hugged her right after kicking down the door and shooting the bad guys. The Chief was as surprised as you were just then, but I can’t say I was”.

“Oh, so you had me investigated, Sweetcakes?” said Kermit playfully.

“Oh, not as thoroughly as you did with me”, Sarah replied, “I know _all about_ my X file, stored in a certain CPU, in a certain precinct downtown”, she finished, tongue firmly in cheek.

Kermit blushed crimson.

“How—?”

“Skalany told me”, Sarah laughed.

“Of all the—!”

“Papa, you’re a _creep!”_ Jim wailed, and he and Sarah chortled again in unison.

“I am not a—! I wanted—! _Paul—!_ ”

“Oh, no, don’t you drag him into in this!” Sarah uttered, still crying with mirth, “Skalany seemed to think it was romantic —she needs to get her head examined, if your ask me—, and I myself found it rather disturbing, but then again I was somewhat smitten with you, and I thought that maybe, given the chance, I would’ve done the same or worse, so I decided not to judge you too harshly… After all, who was I going to tell, the Police?” she finished, and snickered again.

“Kermit, you’re one lucky sumbitch! If I’d pulled that one, the gal would’ve had my sac for breakfast!” Jim bellowed.

“Language, Jim”, Kermit said, his face still redder than a tomato.

“Beg pardon, Mama”, Jim pleaded, blushing as well.

“Don’t worry about it, sonny boy”, Sarah said, rubbing at her belly.

“Are you OK, Sweetcakes?”

“Oh, yeah… apparently laughter sets off Braxton-Hicks as well, who would’ve known?” Sarah replied, breathing deeply.

“I’ll get you some water, Mama!” Jim squawked, leaping from his chair into the kitchen. Sarah watched him go with a smile, while she tried to settle more comfortably in her chair, leaning back as far as she could so as to ease the pressure on her belly. Fozzie and Gonzo were blatant in their displeasure at being crushed.

“Are you sure you feel OK, Sweetcakes?” Kermit insisted concernedly, leaning closer to her; she nodded in assent, intertwining her fingers with his and placing them over her belly. She was getting huge and her skin itched and burned with unavoidable stretch marks, her back was in searing and constant pain, and she hadn’t seen her feet for weeks now; she walked like a goose, and she had a hard time finding her posture to sleep, and she still felt nauseous and faint pretty much ninety-percent of the day, but she couldn’t remember being happier in her entire life, even if they were still targeted by mercenaries and evil forces alike.

“Yes, Siegfried, never been better”, she assured him, taking him by the chin with her free hand to kiss him softly, “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

“I still can’t believe it, sometimes”, Kermit said, “but yes, I do know. And… _hear my heart speak: the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service”._

She threw her arms around him and sighed contentedly into his chest.

“Papa, you’re a poet”, said Jim in awe from the threshold.

“It’s Shakespeare”, replied Kermit, “The Tempest, you should read it”.

“Roger that, Papa”, Jim said cheekily, and Sarah laughed.

 “So!” she said, returning to their previous subject, “how are we going to prove that Straker is either blackmailing or in league with this, um— uncle of mine?”

“Well, I’ll ask Paul what more does he know about him, and then I’ll just—” Kermit blushed again, “I’ll just hack into his records and see if we can find out what’s Straker’s leverage. It should be easy enough”.

 

As it turned out, it was easier said than done, Kermit found. Paul seemed downright horrified at the ramifications of his fleeting, if intense association with a Chinese spy.

“How in the world did Fa-Jiang and Straker get acquainted?” he asked somberly.

“Well, in all fairness, Straker needn’t get acquainted with anyone in order to blackmail them”, Kermit said, “but in this particular case, I’d say there has to be more to it than meets the eye. It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise, and you know me, I don’t—”

“You don’t believe in coincidences”, Paul finished for him, “me neither”.

“Of the old gang, who knew about you and Jing-Li?” _I_ certainly didn’t, but then again, I was fourteen at the time, so…”

Paul blushed.

“We weren’t precisely shouting it from the rooftops, but it wasn’t that much of a secret, either. Salinger knew, so did Ericsson… and Garrison”.

“Garrison, the federal Marshall?”

“That’s the one”.

“Who would have thought?” Kermit exclaimed musingly, “Did Straker know?”

“He was still a member of the Wing back then… But I didn’t tell them, not one of them”, Paul said, “You saw Rykker’s reaction in London, not even he knew”.

“Is… Straker not… part Chinese?” asked Caine in his _staccato_ voice.

The rest of the assembled party stared at him.

“What?” Kermit exclaimed.

“When… we were at the compound”, Caine clarified, “he seemed… intent on convincing me that we… were kindred spirits. He… tried to justify his actions by… claiming Shaolin had also been mercenaries at one point”; Caine shrugged, “which… they were. He then… asked me if I was part Chinese… and when I said I was… he said that so was he”.

“I never would have guessed”, Peter murmured.

“Well, the same could be said about you… or about Sarah, for that matter”, Kermit observed.

“Oh, but I’m like an eighth Chinese!” Peter exclaimed, “That’s almost next to nothing, really! But… you’re right, though; Sarah’s half and half and you can’t tell”.

“Oh, so that’s why Mama sort of resembles Shannen Doherty?” Jim said.

“Who?” Paul asked.

“She’s an actress”, said Jim sheepishly.

“Is _she_ half-Chinese?”

“No, that’s the thing”, Jim said, “or at least, not that anyone knows of, but she looks really Eurasian, if you ask me. And so does Mama: you know, black hair, pale eyes, high, rosy cheeks, _really_ white skin… nothing too obvious but—”

“I knew she reminded me of someone!” Peter interjected.

“I wonder if that’s of any significance.” Kermit mused, “You know, prophecy-wise?”

Caine shrugged.

“Nothing… was ever mentioned about eye color… but dark hair and white skin were… indeed remarked upon”.

“But why, though?”

“The stark contrast, the opposites of the two bloods, I guess”, Peter supplied, “sort of a living yin-yang; or… you know, the prophecy was made by a fan of Snow White”.

That elicited some half-hearted chuckles from his audience.

“You and I should’ve been brothers”, Jim told Peter gleefully, “now, tell me… what prophecy?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know. Well, that’s how Sarah came into her magic”, Kermit said and he proceeded to explain all about the prophecy to his eldest son. He half expected Jim would laugh it off, but he surprised them all by nodding gravelly and saying:

“I know about it”.

Caine looked at him with an intensity that would have made anyone else feel uncomfortable.

“How… do you know about it?” he asked.

“In the compound”, Jim answered ruefully, “The guards mentioned it. Apparently, it was one of Straker’s obsessions… to find the Shield”.

“Did he… know all of it?”

“What?”

“The prophecy… kept by the Shambhala Masters is… incomplete”, Caine said, “The ending is blurred. We have not… been able to reveal the last part. Master Lo Si has been working on it for weeks now”.

“Well, I wasn’t made privy to _that_ much detail”, Jim said, “See, I wasn’t exactly loved by our dear custodians, I fail to see why, me being the charming fellow that I am…” his audience laughed, because most of them remembered his boisterous behavior at the compound, “But I _did_ hear that Straker believed the Shield could be swayed to their side, and instead of being a champion for the weak she’d be a fighter for the wicked or some other cockamamie thing like that”.

“But how would Straker know so much about it? I thought the Shambhala Masters had had it in their possession since the beginning of time!” Peter intervened.

“Not… that long”, Caine said, “since 1650, give or take a decade”.

“So? Straker wasn’t even thought of back then!”

“I think that a thorough background check on Straker’s Chinese ancestry is in order”, Kermit said decisively.

“But… aren’t we sidetracking from the SOP, here?” Jim said, “How will that help Uncle Albion?”

“Well, as far as I am concerned, this _is_ part of the SOP”, Kermit replied, somewhat sternly, “since I am rather fixated on keeping my wife and unborn children out of harm’s way, if it’s in my power to do so, and if it’s all the same to you”.

Jim hung his head in shame.

“You’re right, Papa. I’m sorry”.

“Don’t be”, Kermit said, “besides, I am sure that in the course of this investigation we will come up with the link between Fa- Jiang and Straker, and how and why did Straker end up blackmailing such a powerful man into Court-martialing your Uncle”.

Jim brightened up.

“Tango, Papa”, he said.

“Boys!” yelled Sarah from the top of the stairs, “Dinner’s ready!”

Kermit smiled and got up. The rest of the party followed him upstairs and out of the basement, where Sarah didn’t venture alone anymore, mainly because she couldn’t see either her feet or where she was going.

“When did you get home?” Kermit asked, catching up with her in the kitchen and kissing her softly in greeting.

“Oh, just then”, Sarah replied, looking nothing short of exhausted, pressing a hand to her aching back while she stirred the contents of a wok pan with the other, “I thought you’d be hungry so I fixed some dinner, nothing fancy, just some—”

“It looks fantastic, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said, kissing her again, “now go and put your feet up, we’ll take care of it”.

Sarah didn’t need to be told twice, and, under Kermit’s direction, dinner was served and consumed within minutes. They deftly avoided any discussion concerning courts-martial or prophecies of any kind. Jim had them in stitches for most of the evening and Peter wasn’t that far behind. Even Katya managed to remain civil and even thanked Sarah for an excellent nosh. Kermit, for his part, was happy to see that Sarah had been able to eat almost a decent meal and she looked cheerful and giddy; still, he didn’t push it, and he bid the party adieu as soon as he caught sight of Sarah rubbing at her reddened eyes and trying very unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

Caine lingered for a while after they’d all gone, examining Sarah intently with a dead-set expression on his face. He produced yet another handful of dried herbs from a satchel, and he finally left for his little loft, right after he made sure Sarah had swallowed every last herb.


	23. Chapter 23

“Honey, I am home!” exclaimed Kermit, closing the front door behind him. Bailey barked in greeting from the kitchen but stayed put, so Kermit assumed he didn’t want to leave Sarah alone. The dog had become even more protective of Sarah as of late, probably noticing her movements where slower and clumsier, which made her an easy prey. _Don’t go there, Griffin_ , he told himself firmly.

“Hey, Siegfried”, Sarah said from the pantry, “how was your day?”

She emerged carrying a pot of mayonnaise, a gigantic jar of pickles, dark olives, a loaf of rye bread and some maraschino cherries.

“Want a sandwich?” she asked.

“Well, if I don’t feel like the fifties husband”, Kermit said mockingly, “but a sandwich would be lovely, thank you. Just… No cherries in mine, if that’s all right”.

Sarah laughed.

“I wasn’t going to put them in the sandwiches… Those are for dessert. I’ve been craving cherries all day.”

She tried unsuccessfully to open the pickle jar, so she gave it a couple of hearty bangs against the counter, after which the lid easily popped open.

“Hey, that’s my husbandly duty!” exclaimed Kermit, hurrying to open the remaining jars. Sarah chuckled.

“Sorry… force of habit”, she said.

“Sweetcakes, what if it’d broken, what if you’d gotten hurt?”

“Kermit?” said Sarah, somewhat sternly, “I am not made of glass, remember?”

And just in that moment, her goddamned uterus sided with Kermit and gave her a humongous contraction.

“Fuck me sideways!” she yelped, curling up in pain. Kermit refrained from laughing with some difficulty and helped her to the nearest chair.

“Even my freaking uterus takes your side, don’t you know”, Sarah muttered mutinously when the pain had subsided. Kermit wiped her sweaty forehead tenderly with a warm washcloth and sat beside her.

“I wish I could share the burden with you” he said, “you know, carry one of the babies each or something. Although… I couldn’t very well go after perps with a pregnant belly!”

“Don’t give me that bull, Siegfried”, Sarah said, “ _I_ will be carrying both of them when facing the source of all evil, more likely than not”.

“ _Not_ if I can help it, you won’t”, replied Kermit firmly.

“There you are, channeling your inner Paul again”.

Kermit kissed her softly.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Sweetcakes”, he said.

Sarah caressed his cheek.

“I know”.

“Will you try to eat your sandwich?” Kermit asked, spreading the assorted ingredients over the kitchen table, ready to make the biggest sandwich his ability would allow.

“I don’t think I can eat anymore”, said Sarah, a little green in the face, “Fozzie has taken my stomach hostage and Gonzo is demanding ransom”.

Kermit laughed helplessly and threw his arms around her.

“Well, I’ll have a sandwich, if you don’t mind. I am famished”.

“Go right ahead. You never did tell me how your day was”.

“Oh, yeah! Well, I think I finally found what Straker has on Fa-Jiang…” Kermit spoke, haphazardly piling slices of cheese and smoked turkey on top of a piece of rye bread, “I just need to crack a couple more files, but I am guessing tomorrow I’ll have all I need”.

“And will it be enough to help Jim’s uncle?”

“It better be”, Kermit said somberly, sinking his teeth into his sandwich, “I am running out of ideas. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Sarah pondered for a few minutes.

“Well, maybe some oatmeal, thank you”.

“I’ll get it”, Kermit said, standing up. He returned with some oatmeal flakes, poured them in a bowl and added milk; he was about to put them in the microwave when Sarah held up a hand.

“That’s OK, Siegfried”, she said.

“But, honey, that’s still raw”, Kermit replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I know. That’s how I like it”.

“You’re weird”.

“And you’ve never called me honey before”, Sarah retorted.

“I did just now, when I got home”, Kermit observed, and they both laughed.

“And how was _your_ day?” Kermit asked.

“Well, I can’t do procedures anymore, my belly gets in the way; the guys all take turns at replacing me in active duty, so I’ve been demoted to secretary work for the time being”, Sarah replied, rubbing at her belly.

Kermit watched her eat her raw oatmeal with a shiver and suddenly, he blurted out:

“Sweetcakes, this is going to sound incredibly medieval, but… You don’t have to work if you don’t want to”.

“Excuse me?” Sarah replied.

“I mean to say I am… well, rather well off. I actually don’t need to work myself, not for a paycheck, anyway”.

Sarah looked at him somberly.

“Say that again, please. And use small words; my brain is glucose-deprived and working overtime just now”.

“I am a very wealthy man, Sweetcakes. I am rich, loaded, rolling in dough; I am on easy street, with deep pockets, worth a packet, filthy and disgustingly moneyed”.

Sarah’s face seemed to be all eyes.

“Why?” she asked quietly. She suddenly seemed very young and vulnerable. Kermit set his half eaten sandwich over the counter and took the bowl of oatmeal from her hands, putting it next to his snack; then he stood up and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her slightly.

“Well, you didn’t think I was a mercenary just for the kicks, did you?” He said in a low voice. “It paid well, and I am rather frugal, so pretty much all I earned is still there, untouched. I mostly spent it on Marilyn and her kids”.

Sarah nodded. Typical Kermit.

“Aw, gosh golly!” she exclaimed, in an eerie imitation of Jim’s Texan accent, “I am a trophy wife, Mother will be so proud!”

Kermit let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and dissolved into hearty guffaws.

“Are we OK, Sweetcakes?” Kermit asked, “You’re not mad at me for not telling you before?”

“Of course I am not mad at you”, she replied, “I actually had an inkling, you know?”

“You did?”

“Well, yeah, kind of… I mean, you never seemed to worry about money when it came to restoring the house and you never did take me upon my offer of going Dutch on anything, really… So I figured it wasn’t an issue”.

“It isn’t”, said Kermit, “it once was… which was one of the reasons I became a mercenary… but not anymore”.

“Kermit… Why did you leave… that life?”

Kermit blinked. Sarah had a knack for asking unusual questions. She never once had asked him why had he joined that life, being rather interested in why had he left instead. In Kermit’s eyes, that spoke a lot about who Sarah was as a person.

“I did promise I would tell you, a lifetime ago”, he recalled, “Well, it’s not all that romantic… Nearly ten years ago, a senator was killed at a reunion of Blaisdell’s first commando unit, the Falcon’s Wing, which would later evolve into the Dragonswing”, said Kermit, “It was originally known as the Falcon’s Wing because Blaisdell was the leader, and he earned that moniker —the Falcon—, because of his keen eye. Fat lot of good it did him in the end”, said Kermit bitterly. “Anyway, Blaisdell and senator Matheson never did look eye to eye, but at least they managed to respect each other. And Matheson was killed at that reunion— The murder was committed by another member of the Falcon’s Wing, but he framed Paul” Kermit heard Sarah’s deep intake of breath and continued: “it was so well done a job that he even managed to secure Peter as an eye witness, and Peter could have sworn over a stack of Bibles that he’d seen Paul shoot senator Matheson with his own eyes”, Kermit shook his head ruefully. “Of course, Paul ran for it and sought Caine’s assistance. I was out of town then, I fail to remember why, but I returned the minute I got wind of what was happening. I arrived too late— meaning that Caine, Peter and Paul had already managed to get a confession out of the killer. They set the record straight, but that particular event forced Paul into seclusion, which lasted for four years. That’s when Karen— Captain Simms came to the Precinct”, Kermit added, “but anyway, that’s another story. And I am actually telling it backwards”,

Kermit rubbed at his eyes, tossed his dark glasses over the counter and walked towards the well-stocked bar to pour himself a glass of bourbon neat. He also poured a glass of mineral water for Sarah and returned to where she sat.

“Cheers”, he said, and they clank their glasses together.

“Cooper was just one of the many traitors we’ve had in the elite”, Kermit continued his tale, “But he wasn’t the only one. And the strike in that case wasn’t Cooper’s doing… not exclusively, at least. There was another one… someone that Paul had always regarded as a friend. His name was Bartlett Stiles… and he lost everything when Caine unmasked them both”.

“How did he unmask them?” Sarah asked.

Kermit laughed dryly.

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count”, he said, caressing her chin lightly. Sarah mirrored his smile and said:

“I give up… Did he force them to confess in front of a Grand Jury?

“Almost”, Kermit said. “No, he just… travelled back in time and saw their names in a diary”.

“I am sorry, what?”

Kermit laughed again.

“You heard me right”, he said. “You see, that was Paul’s very last mission. The wing was called by the CIA to rescue a Russian family of scientists, especially the father and daughter, as they were both nuclear physicists and highly coveted by both sides of the Cold War. They were ambushed in the middle of the operation, and… and…” Kermit sighed deeply, “well, the whole family was killed, except for the girl, and that was because Paul managed to get her out of there when all hell broke loose. The girl kept insisting the other American had told her to go to the other side of the square instead of going in the direction previously accorded by all parties. She patted at her diary and yelled that they needed to go the other way. Her family went ahead… and they were killed, along with a bunch of innocent bystanders and three CIA agents. Paul snatched the girl and got her to the escape van, and the diary was lost in the ruckus”.

“Oh, God”, whispered Sarah.

“Oh, yeah”, agreed Kermit. “Anyway… so Caine travelled back in time and, though he couldn’t bring back the diary, he managed to see the two names inscripted on its pages, the names of Cooper and Stiles, as the two traitors to the Wing and to the American government. Cooper was a Police Commissioner and Stiles was a Police Captain by then, so you can imagine how those accusations sat with them. Cooper actually committed suicide in his cell shortly after. Stiles… managed to escape prison”.

Sarah covered her mouth with her hands in horror and Kermit nodded in assent.

“By then I was almost out of— of _that_ life”, he went on, “emphasis in the “almost part”; after Laurie’s death I stopped taking part in on-site missions, but I did lend my _expertise_ to various sponsors around the globe… and I still had my hands elbows-deep in the arms business. I already worked at the precinct with Paul when this whole mess with Cooper and Stiles happened, but I was more on a… how shall we say it, advisory capacity. So then, Stiles breaks free, and the first thing in his to do list was to get back at Paul. But Paul, foreseeing such a circumstance, was nowhere to be found. So, Stiles took it out on the best next thing he could find… Annie”.

Sarah looked at him horrified.

“Yes, Sweetcakes”, Kermit nodded solemnly; “Stiles kidnapped Annie. And since Paul was into seclusion for a reason, we couldn’t let him know it had happened, lest he would compromise his cover. So, I handled it for him. I asked for help from no one, because I couldn’t risk anyone telling Paul out of concern or something worse. I displayed all my resources, and I mean _all of them_ , and it still took me three days to find her. When I did—” Kermit stopped himself suddenly and breathed hard: “Oh, Sweetcakes, I’ll never forget what I saw… She was there, curled into a ball, bleeding, helpless, _blind…_ And still she thanked me profusely when she realized it was me, thanked _me_ for saving _her…_ When it was mine and Paul’s extracurricular activities that had put her at risk in the first place, and not for the first time either!” Kermit ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, “it just… hit me like it had never hit me before… and I thought next time it could be Marilyn, or her kids, or one of Paul’s daughters— yeah, I see the irony now, thank you”, he added, at the sight of Sarah’s smile, “and that I’d have to carry the image of their mangled bodies for the rest of my life. I didn’t have that memory with Laurie, you see? There wasn’t— uh, enough of her left for that… I only remember the stupid blue teddy bear… You’ve seen the memory” Sarah nodded and Kermit caressed her cheek.

“So, after I delivered Annie safely back home, I just left. Never looked back, never took another mission, got out of the arms business. Just like that. But, you see, that life has a way of haunting you and coming back to bit you in the _tuchas,_ as you surely noticed, Sweetcakes. Caine said to Peter, when Paul went into seclusion, that he would come back when he had conquered his demons, and the demons were gone… Ha!” Kermit interjected derisively, “those demons are never gone”.

Sarah didn’t say a word, but she held out her arms to Kermit, who threw himself into them gratefully.

“The likes of Atherton mocked me because, even then, I tried to find some sense of morality in what we did”, he said from the safety of her embrace, “always trying to work for the ‘good guys’ and for the greater good…. Just so I could live with myself… But there comes a time when you can’t force yourself to go through with it anymore”.

“I know”, Sarah said softly, “thank you, for telling me”, she tightened her grip on him and then added, “Now come on, let’s go to bed”.

Kermit didn’t need to be told twice.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24.

 

Peter, Paul and Kermit walked into a dark alley. It sounded like the beginning of a very bad joke, told a thousand times and one more, but nothing was farther from their minds at the moment; feeling a little like gangsters in a noir film, the three men stood amid the fog, the necks of their trench coats pulled up, their hands on their pockets, waiting.

Kermit’s fingers fidgeted incessantly with the floppy disk he kept in his side pocket as he surveilled his surroundings from behind his dark glasses. Pauls’ breath came out in white clouds and Peter kept blowing through his nose as if to clear it.

“Goddamn allergies”, Peter muttered, and then he added out loud: “I don’t think he is coming, you guys”.

Paul cleared his throat just as footsteps could be heard approaching. A lean, elegant Asian man wearing a heavy cashmere overcoat caught up with them and whispered:

“I should not be here”.

“Neither should we”, said Kermit, acidly, “and yet, here we all are. We came to stop you from ruining a good man’s career”.

The Asian man smiled, showing a row of perfectly even, small white teeth.

“I didn’t think anyone would or could figure it out”, he said amusedly, “I must give you some credit after all, Paul”.

“Actually, it was your niece— _my daughter_ who put two and two together”, replied Paul pleasantly.

Fa-Jiang’s smile faltered slightly.

“She has defied all odds by surviving so… _repeatedly”_ , he said at last. Kermit seemed ready to tear the man’s head off at that, but Peter managed to restrain him on time.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Peter said, still holding on to an irate Kermit.

“Have you got it?” Fa-Jiang asked.

“ _I_ have got it”, Kermit snarled, “but there are some ground rules you need to know first: you will cease and desist all harassment of General Hellstrom immediately, and he is to be reinstated to his post with a public apology”.

Fa-Jiang snorted.

“Is that all?” he asked, genuinely amused.

“Not by any chance”, Kermit replied dangerously. “You will also tell us everything you know about the Cheng-Cheng Kung collection and the disappearance of the painting depicting the emperor’s last war”.

Fa-Jiang looked at Kermit, trying to conceal his surprise at the request.

“Who are you?” he asked irritably. Kermit entertained the notion of answering something along the lines of _your worst nightmare_ , but the thought of Sarah waiting for him at home, totally oblivious to what he was currently doing, stopped him.

“The name is Griffin”, he said, through his wolfish grin, “ex-member of the executive elite branch of the CIA. Ask your pals in the Oval Office… some of them might still remember me, although I am sure most of them won’t admit it under torture”, he shrugged one shoulder, “but don’t change the subject. Where is that painting, Mr. Xiã?”

Fa-Jiang Xiã sighed.

“You do know, I am sure, that the collection belongs to my family”, he said at last. His audience nodded in unison, that being the reason they were asking him about it in the first place.

“Our… mutual friend”, continued Fa-Jiang with distaste, “coveted said painting because, he said, therein rested the key to his victory. He— forced me to retrieve it from the Museum and it is currently in his possession”.

“Did he know how to extract the key from the painting?” asked Paul.

“If he did, I wasn’t made privy to the details of such extraction”, Fa-Jiang answered, “But… I do know for sure he got what he wanted, even if the painting itself was destroyed”.

“Crap, he’s released George”, Peter muttered.

“Who?” asked Fa-Jiang.

“Never you mind”, replied Peter crossly.

Fa-Jiang laughed again. Kermit hissed like an angry cat to make him stop. The Asian man’s laughter was akin to a piece of sandpaper grating at one’s meningeal membranes.

“Soon it will not matter anyway”, Fa-Jiang said.

“Meaning?” Peter grouched.

Fa-Jiang gave the most fleeting of glances to Kermit’s left hand, where his wedding band shone dimly in the dark.

“What is about to happen was set in motion eons ago”, Fa-Jiang said slowly, “Resistance is futile at this point. Straker is still missing a few pieces of the puzzle, but once he gets them…”

“Can you stop speaking in riddles?” Paul barked in annoyance, echoing Kermit’s own thoughts.

Fa-Jiang surveilled his surroundings carefully before answering.

“You managed to get acquainted with the Bastard—” Kermit lunged forward angrily at this epithet and snarled, taking Fa-Jiang from the starched collar of his shirt:

“You _will_ maintain a civil tongue when speaking of my wife!”

Fa-Jiang gave a crooked smile. Kermit let go of him with some difficulty, and the Asian man straightened his shirt and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“— and in so doing you paved the path for a destiny no one thought was hers. When Straker turned the tables on me, I chose to keep my knowledge to myself as opposed to offering to him. So, although Straker, by his own circumstances, is aware that the Shield exists, he knows not his identity… so far. The only one who could have revealed it to him was Völsung, because he faced her and survived… sort of. It is my understanding, is it not, that he is permanently incapacitated as a result of such confrontation and that he will soon transition into another plane of existence?”

The three men surrounding Fa-Jiang nodded silently in assent.

“I thought as much”, Fa-Jiang said. “But I… I _felt_ the magic! As soon as it unraveled within her I knew who she was, and I felt elated that my blood contributed to create the Shield… despite the circumstances. And now… _now_ I pray that she is strong enough to withstand what’s coming”.

Kermit felt his skin crawl.

“Straker is ambitious, you all know that”, Fa-Jiang went on, “but, he has delved in things he ought not to have disturbed, things he does not understand. He thinks his blood entitles him to, he thinks it is his birth right, but he is deluded”.

“Yeah, as to that… did it never occur to you to, oh, I don’t know, _stop him?!”_ asked Peter angrily.

Fa-Jiang gave that hoarse laughter again.

“My branch of the family exists for one purpose alone. We do not meddle in such insignificances… But now—” a shadow crossed his eyes.

“What made Straker betray you?” asked Peter then.

“That same feeling of hopelessness he has harbored from infancy. He covets what I am, what I helped to create by… honing my sister before, and later on by allowing the B— her, by allowing her to live”, Fa-Jiang corrected himself on time. “Straker believes that, by controlling me, he will eventually control the Shield and then he will rise to his rightful place, but he is misled in his beliefs, like I said. The Shield grew up well outside our sphere of influence… and while that, at first, might have looked like a bad judgement on my part, it seems now that this precise circumstance paved the way to her destiny. Everything decided in a whim, at the toss of a coin”, Fa-Jiang concluded.

“What about Atherton?” Kermit asked, still mulling over what Fa-Jiang had just said. The older man gifted him with a small smile.

“Atherton will soon be lost to this world, son”, Fa-Jiang replied, strangely echoing Caine’s own words: “unless he sees the error of his ways and tries to restore the balance he skewed… he too shall perish”.

Kermit, Paul and Peter exchanged grim looks at Fa-Jiang’s last deliverance.

“Well, if that’s all…” said the Asian man, conversationally, “I will be having what I came for in the first place, if you please”.

Somewhat reluctantly, Kermit extracted the floppy disk from his pocket and handed it to Fa-Jiang.

“Do I have your word?” Kermit asked, before relinquishing it.

“You have it”, said Fa-Jiang simply, and bowing slightly, he added, “I am sure this is the only copy, is it not? The evidence has otherwise been destroyed?”

Kermit nodded irritably in assent.

“Well, then”, Fa-Jiang smiled again, “ _do_ give my regards to your lovely wife”.

And with that, he disappeared into the fog, as if he had never been there.

 

 

“What a slimeball”, Peter grouched as they climbed into Kermit’s Corvair, “by the way, Kermit, what was in that floppy disk?”

Kermit started the engine and turned to look at Peter over the rim of his dark glasses.

“Evidence that Fa-Jiang fathered a child 31 years ago. Both the extremely Caucasian mother and the biracial child were killed in a convenient car accident shortly after the delivery… which coincidentally, took place two weeks after Fa-Jiang signed Sarah’s adoption papers to the Greenes”.

Peter whistled.

“Holy shit”, he mumbled.

“Enough to ruin both his political career and his position in the family”, Paul mumbled, almost to himself, “no wonder…”

“You _don’t_ wonder?” said Kermit, swerving around dark streets, “I do, actually. Why would Fa-Jiang seek to recreate his sister’s offspring, if said offspring was deemed so unworthy they cast her aside? Don’t you remember what he said? He literally said he allowed Sarah to live! Which brings me to my next question, once born, what did Fa-Jiang find so wrong in his own child that he so easily disposed of him?”

 

Paul and Peter looked at each other and remained silent, not able to give a satisfactory answer to those questions.

 

≈*≈

“Are there any news on Captain Simms?” Skalany asked over the usual uproar of the 101st Precinct. Kermit strained his ears from his office to listen to the conversation, even as he kept typing at top speed.

“She woke up like two days ago, I am told”, Jody replied, “I think she’s being moved to a ward tomorrow, but still, they only allow close family to visit her”.

 

Kermit felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Karen. He had almost completely forgotten about the shooting and its aftermath, and he had tried to visit her just once, only to be turned away by an angry nurse, He made a mental note to send her some flowers —he seemed to remember she favored tulips—, and he returned to the job at hand, not sidetracking from it until Peter poked his head through the door.

“I knew you’d still be here”, he said, “come on; come see what Donnie Double D found for me”.

Kermit got up from his chair, stretched luxuriously and realized with surprise it was almost seven o’clock. He followed Peter to his desk and stared at the blurred picture he showed him.

“Is that George?” he asked at last.

“None other than”, answered Peter glumly.

“But what is he doing—?”

“Talking to Chan?” Peter finished, “your guess is as good as mine. But we agreed it was George the one who stole the ring from Hagen, didn’t we? So maybe that’s it. Chan’s no stranger when it comes to stealing antiques… Remember he stole those Tibetan scrolls from Pop, and the Li-Ji reliquary from the Dalai Lama…”

“Yeah, that’s not precisely reassuring in our current predicament”, said Kermit bitterly, “and more importantly, Chan is also biracial, dark-haired, fair-skinned… and around Sarah’s age”.

“That keeps popping up, doesn’t it?” observed Peter.

“Yes, and I don’t like it one bit. One, I could have passed off as a coincidence, but three individuals with pretty much the same age and outer appearance, not to mention the biracial parentage…. Well, I can’t believe it is a coincidence. What does your father say about this, anyway?”

Peter shrugged, imitating Caine’s trademark gesture.

“I… do not know”, he said, “I actually haven’t seen him in a few days”.

“Figures”, Kermit said. “He is probably up to something sketchy, you mark my words. It’s never a good sign when he disappears like that. Come on, do you want to join us for dinner?”

 

≈*≈

 

 “Master”, said Caine, entering his small apothecary, laden with small vases, “I sense… something is troubling you”.

He deposited the vases on the nearest table and turned to look at the Ancient.

“Indeed, Kwai Chang Caine”, Lo Si replied, looking up from a frayed piece of parchment. “I have… unearthed the end of the prophecy, and it does not augur well”.

“What… does it say?”

“The Shadow shall wane with Birth”, began Lo Si somberly: “As the Blue Moon so waxes, born to the embrace of blood red waters they shall conquer; sired by the one Without Fear, carried by the warrior of the dark mane”, Lo Si sighed and concluded: “Thus shalt the Light shatter the Shadow… Thus shalt the Shield choose the Slain”.

There was nothing but silence for a long time after Lo Si uttered the end of the prophecy.

“Ah”, said Caine after a while.

“Kwai Chang Caine”, Lo Si went on worriedly, “the blue moon is only two weeks from now. The waxing has begun… and it is too early yet. They might not survive”.

“I have… sowed her strength these past few months”, Caine shrugged, “It has… taken a toll on her body… but it is my belief… that she will pull through”.

“And the babies?” asked Lo Si.

“She… will have to shield them”, Caine shrugged again.

“Will you tell Kermit?”

“I will, when… he needs to know. Master… you know… as well as I do that… the minute Sarah asked me… to teach her how to produce a Shield… it was the minute she… embraced her destiny and set… things into motion”.

 

Lo Si nodded in understanding, and then shuffled over to a cabinet with lots of little drawers. He opened the one in the bottom left and extracted some dry herbs; he walked back to Caine, moving slowly with the weight of the 150 years he claimed he was, and gave Caine the herbs.

“Give these to Sarah”, he said, a bit reproachfully; he was after all, extremely fond of her, “She will need to take them as of tonight if the prophecy is to be fulfilled”.

Caine took the herbs and bowed, putting his hands together.

“And… Kwai Chang Caine”, Lo Si added warningly: “take care of her if you can. Kermit… will not spare you if something goes wrong… and then it _might_ be _your_ destiny to die at the hands of the Knight without Fear”.

 

≈*≈

 

Dinner at Brookside was a wonderful affair, even Katya admitting against her will that the meal had been superb. Rykker had joined them to appease Sarah, who was mortified when she learned that Rykker had been in town for the past week and never once had he dropped by to say hello. They concluded the evening with a heartfelt rendition of “Take me home, country roads”, courtesy of Jim’s guitar and deep bass voice, so like Kermit’s, and of Sarah’s perfect country twang.

“And now, let’s sing us some _Tallahassee Lassie!”_   Screeched Jim gleefully, but they were hardly two verses into the song when a bunch of masked men crashed into the parlor through the high windows.

“These asswipes must think I shit windowpanes”, growled Kermit, and then raised his voice over the uproar of the wailing alarm, “Jim, take Sarah outta here!”

 

But Katya was already dragging Sarah away while Peter swiped a low kick at an intruder’s ankle, effectively shattering it into pieces.

“They got this, Princess”, Katya panted derisively, “My job is to keep you out of harm’s way, OK?”

Katya half expected Sarah to break free from her grasp and join the ongoing battle, but she surprised the hardened mercenary by staying put beside her and doing as she was told.

“Well, at least you have some brains on your fucking head”, Katya acknowledged grudgingly.

“I have two more lives to think of besides mine”, was Sarah’s reply.

“Yeah… I wonder what that’s like”, Katya said, and Sarah could have sworn there was a touch of wistfulness in her tone. _So that’s it? Katya wants to be a mother?_ Sarah thought suddenly, but she didn’t have the time or disposition to think it through, as the battle was still going strong in the parlor. The four men were doing their very best to fight off the trespassers, but the truth was they were obscenely outnumbered. Rykker managed to shoot one of them straight between the eyes, but another of the masked man knocked him out with a well-placed blow to the head and kicked Rykker’s gun under a chair, out of reach.

Quite abruptly, Caine glided through a shattered windowpane and skewed the odds positively in the local team’s favor, rapidly incapacitating a guy brandishing a hunter’s knife, and moving on to fight five assailants at once. Peter had managed to subdue another one, and was currently combating two more.

“Jim!” screeched Kermit, even as he broke the nose of his opponent with a forceful blow with the heel of his hand, “Where is S—”

But he couldn’t finish the sentence, as another camouflaged man approached Kermit from behind and tased him without a warning. Kermit fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, twitching but awake, staring furiously at his masked attacker. Caine materialized behind the man, and with a fluttery movement of his large hands, he effectively immobilized the man. Caine took great care in keeping both the man’s wrists clasped in his own hand, and he removed the balaclava covering the intruder’s head with a fluid motion. Chan’s sneering face appeared underneath.

“Haven’t you died yet?” panted Peter, round-kicking yet another man into submission.

“Hardly, Caine”, answered Chan amusedly, as if he currently wasn’t in another Caine’s deadly lock-grip.

“What the hell do you want?” barked Kermit from the floor, where he still twitched spasmodically, unable to stand.

A derisive little laugh was heard, and George walked slowly into the parlor.

“Well, long time, no see!” he said with his blown up British accent, that Kermit had always suspected was fake, “it’s been what, six years since we last saw each other? Or, should I say, since you _banished_ me into a painting, Caine?”

Caine held George’s gaze unwaveringly and didn’t reply.

“Yes, I thought as much”, George went on, “anyway, tonight, I seek… a maiden. Yes, a fair maiden who is to bless a certain possession of mine so that it will unleash its power”.

Kermit rolled his eyes as he forced his legs to support his weight so that he could get up from the floor, and watched George produce a small golden band.

“This is getting ridiculous”, Kermit growled.

“I don’t make the rules, old chap”, George said, “The ring must be blessed by the Valkyrie—” Kermit shivered against his will, “it has been so since time immemorial. I should know, I am an archaeologist, remember?” he gave a laugh that didn’t touch his eyes and then he bellowed: “Bring her forth, I know she is here!”

Jim made a run for it, trying to get to Sarah and Katya before George’s men did, but one of them swiftly threw a gaucho bola at him, effectively tumbling Jim to the ground.

“Really?” exclaimed Kermit feeling that nothing could surprise him anymore.

“The Gaucho cowboys are an extremely combative race”, said George conversationally, “their weapons are fantastic”.

The Gaucho wannabe approached Sarah and Katya. Kermit tried to limp towards them but Caine held up a hand.

“Do… not… move”, he said to Kermit, even as he grinded Chan’s imprisoned wrists together. Chan yelped in pain.

Gaucho man punched Katya hard in the face and the blonde mercenary fell to the floor without a sound. Gaucho man then dragged Sarah forcefully by the arm to the center of the room, paying no mind to her obvious pregnancy. She tripped and almost fell twice, but in the end she managed to regain her footing and stood there in silence.

“What do you reckon, Chan?” asked George placidly, “should we slice her throat for good measure or shall a drop of blood suffice?”

“Stop horsing around, you idiot! You know perfectly damn well what you must do! A pint of my blood didn’t do the trick, did it? Nor did the blood of the dozens of half-breeds you’ve hunted down! This is the last one that meets the requirements, so stop your self-indulgence and have it done with!”

Sarah’s eyes widened at that. _Dozens of half-breeds?_  she thought, horrified. _Was the man deranged?_

Kermit still seemed to have trouble getting his legs to work properly, but he tried to run towards Sarah anyway, managing a spasmodic lurch that almost threw him back to the ground. George tutted.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t spoil the fun!”

George approached Sarah with long, measured steps, and then all hell broke loose. Kermit launched himself feet first towards Gaucho man, as if trying to steal the ball from a soccer opponent, and he succeeded on breaking both of Gaucho man’s ankles; at the same time, Caine knocked out Chan with a simple blow to the nape of his neck. Katya stirred in the corner began to crawl towards the still unconscious Rykker, while Peter and Jim both ran towards Sarah, just as George grabbed her hand rudely. He produced a knife from a pocket and performed a deep cut in her inner forearm, from her wrist to the hollow of her elbow. Sarah howled in pain.

“NOOO!” yelped Kermit, reaching out to her. George dipped the ring in the wound he had just produced and a strong smell of ozone permeated the air. The atmosphere crackled and rumbled with thunder and lighting. George’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that.

“Kermit!” yelled Sarah urgently. She closed her eyes and blasted George away from her without moving her arms, “the ring! Take it, take it!”

Kermit rushed forward and took the bloody ring from George’s limp hand. Jim reached Sarah and held her upright. She was bleeding profusely.

“A little help here!” Jim bellowed.

“Caine!” yelled Sarah.

“Yes”, Caine replied calmly, as if they weren’t in the middle of a pandemonium. Rykker stirred just then and began to crawl uncoordinatedly around the room, as if searching for something only he could see. Katya dragged him back to safety and the air reverberated again, more strongly this time. Caine took Sarah’s injured arm and touched the wound lightly with his fingers. They all watched in amazement as the flesh began knitting back together. Kermit joined Caine and Sarah, panting slightly, and Sarah held out her other arm so that he would take her hand in his. Kermit did so, momentarily forgetting he still had the ring in his grasp, and when Sarah’s hand touched the bloody metal, a bolt of electricity erupted from their entwined fingers. Sarah threw her head back and projected a shield above them, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

A small conflagration erupted around them, engulfing the invaders in blue flames. Sarah’s grip on Kermit’s hand was so strong he feared she’d already broken a couple of fingers, but he did not move an inch, lest in doing so he’d unbalance her to catastrophic results.

Finally, Caine raised his free hand and extinguished the flames with a swift movement. Sarah collapsed in Kermit’s arms, the newly healed cut in her left arm bright pink against her white flesh. Her fingers relaxed slowly and the charred remains of the gold band fell from her hand to the floor.

“Is she— what— the—?” Katya stammered, still clearly shaken over the fact that Sarah had saved all of their _derrières_ yet again, “who were those guys, anyway?”

There was no trace left of them. Apparently they had been consumed by the flames, which suited them just fine, less evidence to deal with, in their opinion.

“So… Did we finally get rid of George?” asked Peter.

“Third time’s the charm”, Kermit agreed. He proceeded to move his unconscious wife to the nearest couch and gently touched her face.

“Sweetcakes, wake up”, he said, “it’s over”.

It took a while, but Sarah finally came around, and she blinked repeatedly as if she’d been blinded by a very bright light.

“Aw, my head”, she moaned, and turned abruptly to her side to be violently sick.

“Oh, God”, exclaimed Rykker distastefully, “Katya, clean that up, will you?”

Katya stared at him incredulously.

“Well!” she huffed, “apparently the blow to the head has robbed you of your good manners!”

“Leave it, Katya”, said Sarah hoarsely, “don’t… talk to her like that, Rykker, she’s not a maid”.

Katya’s mouth fell open. In that moment, Jim leaned over and whispered something into Katya’s ear. She went bright red and nodded with her head almost against her will. No one would ever know Jim’s words to her, but from that moment on, Katya ceased hostilities towards Sarah.

 

“So, what the hell just happened?” asked Jim out loud.

“George’s plan… backfired”, said Caine, simply.

“Yeah, we noticed that, Pop”, intervened Peter, “and his plan failed because…?”

Kermit’s eyes widened as if he’d suddenly understood something.

“This is why the biracial people keep popping up”, he said in a low voice.

“Uh?” asked Rykker, thickly, “what was that?”

“They’re trying to recreate the Shield”, added Kermit.

Caine bowed at him.

“I think… Kermit is correct”, he said, “they… tried to use Chan’s blood… and the blood of others of… mixed parentage… seeing as they couldn’t seem to get a hold of Sarah—”

“Not for lack of trying…” Kermit grouched.

“But it didn’t work because Chan isn’t the Shield, right, Pop?” Peter piped in.

“Exactly, my son”.

“So… what happened just now was what, exactly?” Katya asked then.

“The Shield… is prophesied to be… a paragon of good” said Caine, “so, naturally… her blood shall not… bless… a ring intended for evil”.

“I guess, in a way, that ring was as cursed as the Ring of the Nibelungs”, murmured Kermit, almost to himself. He felt Sarah squeezing his hand in reassurance and tensed unwillingly when he heard her speak:

“In Norse Mythology, the Ring Andvarinaut became Brünnhilde’s undoing, even when it was given to her by Siegfried”.

Kermit shivered.

“So, is it destroyed, Caine?” he asked briskly.

Caine took the charred remains of the ring in the palm of his hand and examined them closely.

“So… it would seem”, he said at last.

“Well, get rid of it”, Kermit said vehemently, “take it to Shambhala, toss it into the Rhin, or cast it into Orodruin’s fire, nigh at hand were it was made, I don’t care. Just.GET.RID.OF.IT. Wholly and truly”.

He caught Sarah’s light smile out of the corner of his eye and he grinned in return. He was sure she was the only one who knew who he had quoted in his little speech.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want it biting us in the ass just because we dared to believe it was so easily destroyed”, added Peter.

“Not that it has ever happened”, added Rykker with a dry guffaw.

“Easily?” grouched Sarah, “I beg to differ!”

That elicited a bout of laughter from all of them.

Caine pocketed the remains of the ring and inched closer to Sarah, who looked completely washed-out. Caine took her injured arm and peered at it intently.

“I fear… it will leave a scar”, he said, “The wound was deep. Do you… hurt anywhere else?”

Sarah shook her head.

“No, I just feel a little tired”.

That was the understatement of the year, Kermit thought.

Caine touched Sarah’s wound lightly and produced some more herbs from his satchel. Sarah did her best to force them down but struggled with the last bit, and her eyes widened when she realized the herbs where about to take the stomach express back up. She pushed the remaining herbs aside and looked at Caine apologetically.

“I am sorry, I can’t have anymore”, she said.

Caine shrugged.

“Worry… not”, he said, “That should be… enough”.

 

The party dissolved quickly after that, and Kermit walked his exhausted wife slowly towards their bedroom. Sarah crawled into bed weakly and Kermit laid beside her in silence. He inched closer to her in the dark, throwing his arms around her. He kissed her shoulder and breathed in the scent of her skin.

“I am sorry, Sweetcakes”, he mumbled at last against her tattooed shoulder.

Sarah twitched in his arms.

“What for?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

“I couldn’t stop them from hurting you… again”, said Kermit bitterly, touching the newly formed scar in her forearm. Sarah turned in his embrace to face him and curled into his chest.

“Kermit…” she said softly, “it is not your job to protect me or anyone else for that matter. These things just… happen”.

Kermit snorted and Sarah continued:

“Ok, they don’t normally happen, but, considering our particular circumstances, I reckon we’ll be seeing more of this until its final resolution, so, please, don’t beat yourself up about it”.

“But—”

“No buts, my dear”, said Sarah, putting a finger to his lips to silence him. “Just… make love to me, make the memory of this horrid night disappear”.

 

Kermit groaned in response as he moved to touch her body, getting rid of her nightgown and her underwear, stroking her bulging belly and her breasts, heavier and fuller than ever. He suckled on her hardened nipples and was startled when she let out a loud whimper.

“Did I… hurt you?” he asked, stopping immediately.

“Oh, no, I— Ooh… Just… it felt… oh, it felt _good!”_ she answered, gasping.

 

Kermit grunted, incredibly aroused by her ragged answer, and resumed his caresses as her small hand traveled down his navel and lower to grasp his erection. She slid her fingertips around it with incredible softness and Kermit’ hips bucked helplessly, delighted among the waves of pleasure, enjoying her strokes as her other hand wandered around his chest and back. He helped her to shift to her side, her back turned to him, and he buried his face between her shoulder blades, pressing raw kisses to the wings tattooed on her back, savoring every inch of her skin.  His lips wandered lower, kissing each and every one of the tattoos he found until he reached the small of her back, and he finally he entered her from behind as his fingers caressed her swollen folds. He moved smoothly, gently, kissing the nape of her neck and breathing in the scent of her hair as she bucked against him to meet his thrusts. It didn’t take long for any of them, and soon enough they were lying in each other’s arms, panting and kissing, hands still stroking each other.

 Sarah relaxed gradually in Kermit’s embrace, and her even breathing and peaceful face told Kermit she was finally asleep. He settled her more comfortably on the mattress and drew the bedclothes over her. He curled up beside her and kissed her hair. He was drifting into blissful sleep when Sarah jerked awake and grabbed fistfuls of his plain white cotton shirt, her face pale, her eyes wild and her chest heaving. Her trembling hands traced the outline of his face and wandered down to his chest, but it wasn’t a seductive gesture; it seemed more like she was trying to make sure he was there with her, alive and whole.

“Sweetcakes, what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching towards the nightstand to turn on the lights.

Sarah blinked repeatedly and rubbed her eyes. She frowned and looked at him… and Kermit inhaled sharply. Her eyes were bright yellow, just like a cat’s.

 “What?” she mumbled.

Kermit was at a loss of words. He kept staring into those wild, animal eyes, fascinated, unable to form a coherent thought. _Do swans have yellow eyes?_ Was the thought that came to his head, and then his heart almost stopped, when he noticed the hint of black feathers curling around Sarah’s white shoulders.

“Holy shit” Kermit breathed. He jumped out of bed, ran towards Sarah’s side and he emitted a high-pitched gurgle: two humongous wings, full of silky black feathers were growing out of Sarah’s back and Kermit was irreverently reminded of the scene in the movie ‘Dogma’ where Metatron displayed his angel wings in Bethany’s apartment; the association of ideas was both hilarious and terrifying. He walked back to his side of the bed and stared at that winged, yellow-eyed stranger that had replaced his wife.

“Sweetcakes, your—” his voice failed him and he took a deep breath. “Do your eyes do that often?” he said at last and just as soon he wanted to kick himself. Of course her eyes didn’t do that _ever!_ Nor did she grow wings out of her back on a whim!

“What?” she said again. She looked groggy and confused. “My eyes? No… Where is the cygnet, Kermit? I think I lost the cygnet!” there was a touch of hysteria in her voice, so Kermit kneeled on the bed next to her and held her close, feeling the softness of the feathers against his arms, and shuddering.

“Easy, Sweetcakes”, he said. “Forget the eyes and the— _wings_ for a moment. What happened just now, when you woke up and rattled me?”

Sarah drew back a little to look at him.

“The cygnet is drowning”, she said flatly and she passed out.

Kermit never felt as close to losing his mind completely as he did just then.

 

Sarah woke up a good two hours later, with no recollection whatsoever of the incident. Kermit had stood watch over her, mulling over and over the several and creative techniques he’d use to kill Caine the next chance he got. Sarah curled up in pain, her lower back and belly aching horribly, but, Kermit noted, and thanked the Heavens for, her grey-blue irises firmly back in place. The huge, feathery wings had also disappeared at some point during the night, leaving only the original tattoo behind.  Sarah looked at him with something akin to fear in her eyes when he told her what had transpired earlier in the night and didn’t argue when Kermit urged her to go back to sleep. She dozed off almost instantly, and Kermit eyed her thoughtfully, his analytic mind trying to understand what the hell had just happened, but try as he might, he could not make head or tail of it, so he reluctantly fell into a restless slumber.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PARENTAL ADVISORY CONTENT, IT CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE

Sarah raised her eyes from the PC screen to look at the clock in the wall and rubbed her eyes. She struggled to get up and stretched carefully, putting a hand to her pained back.

“Getting ready to go?” Tammy asked behind her.

“Yes, I just needed to finish this report, but I’m on my way. There are some— ow!”

She put a hand to her midriff, surprised at the stinging pain.

“Sarah? You OK?”

“Yeah… It was just… a contraction”, Sarah replied after a while, when the pain had ceased, “but it hurt quite a bit”.

“How far along are you again?”

“Thirty-four weeks”.

“You must be careful, Sarah”, Tammy admonished her. “No offense, but you’re huge and you _know_ hyper expansion isn’t good for the uterus”.

“Yes well”, Sarah said somewhat scathingly. “I’m huge because I’m expecting twins; and I talked to Hastings yesterday and he told me I’ll have to work “just a little more”, before I can go on maternity leave. He says, and I quote: “you’ve been absent a lot this year”, and apparently I’ve got to make up for lost time”, Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Asshole”, Tammy exclaimed.

“Tell me about it. But you were in the same case, weren’t you?”

 “Yes, but I wasn’t expecting twins! And they did let me go when I reached 34 weeks. Of course, Hastings wasn’t head of administration then. Yours is a high-risk pregnancy, Sarah, and you know it”.

“Yes, _I know_ it. _I went_ to med school. I am not so sure about Hastings, though”.

Both women chuckled.

“He’s a man, he’ll never get it”, Tammy said.

“Yeah… Well. See you tomorrow, Tammy, kiss your son for me.”

“Will do. Bye-bye, take care”.

 

Sarah nodded and grabbed her backpack and her coat to leave the office. She waddled towards the elevator that led to the parking lot, where Katya was waiting for her, because she could no longer fit in the driver’s seat of her own car. She went to get into the elevator, lost in her own thoughts, wondering, as often she and Kermit had done in the past week, whether they could expect a reprisal of the inexplicable nightmare, the massive wings and the startling, though ephemeral change in the color of her eyes. So far, it had only happened the one time, and Caine had claimed not to have an explanation for it when they told him about it. Maybe it was Sarah’s imagination, but she rather thought Caine had avoided eye contact with her, as if he was hiding something.  Sarah sighed and pushed the button to the underground parking lot. The elevator door began closing slowly when suddenly, a gloved hand slid through and pushed the door back through the rails.

“Hello”, said the cold, drawling voice of Straker. “It is good to finally meet you”.

 

And he grinned evilly before hitting Sarah hard on the back of the head.

 

 

~*~

 

“I cannot believe we have not been able to locate Atherton”, Rykker seethed; “what, did Lucas— excuse me, _Gunnar_ — shove Atherton up his arse to keep him hidden?”

Kermit snorted at Rykker’s use of expletives and said that, for all they knew, that was exactly what had happened. They were gathered in Kermit’s home study, going through strategies and browsing the deep dark web in search for the elusive mercenary, to no avail.

“The only man I can think that can vanish off radar like that, other than Caine, of course, is Straker” Kermit supplied, “he’s an expert at hiding and kidnapping people, and he doesn’t usually fail”.

“So you’re saying that they have another compound running?” Jim spoke.

Kermit nodded.

“Probably nearer than we think”, he added. “His online trace vanishes at Sloanville, but if he is smart, and he is, he will not be operating anything I can use to pinpoint his exact location; he’d have gone old school”.

Rykker tsked.

“We’re getting too old for this”, he said, not for the first time either.

Kermit kept checking at his watch; Sarah was late and that was not usual for her. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes behind the glasses.

“This is not just revenge, as we’d thought at first”, Paul said, “there are many interests at stake and offing us is just one of the side perks”.

“Aw, would you look at us, making all the mercenaries bury the hatchet and rallying together against us!” Rykker said acidly, and Kermit laughed. It did have a touch of irony, now that he thought about it.

“But what the hell did you do to irk all those people?” Jim asked.

“Thwarted them, mostly” Paul supplied, “we were in rival mercenary groups. Well… no, not Straker. Straker was one of ours, but then…”

“He betrayed you” Jim finished.

“Yeah… Mercenary occupational hazard, I’m afraid”.

Kermit checked at his watch again.

“Where the hell is she?” he asked to no one in particular, “she’s over an hour late”.

“Katya hasn’t checked in either” observed Rykker just then, only adding to Kermit’s impending sense of foreboding.

“She still has her magic punch going strong?” Peter asked.

“Yes… but then, she can barely move now as it is” Kermit said, “even if something— if she manages to stall them by magic, she’ll have a hard time waddling away…. And they could ambush her— after all, they know what she did to Hagen… not the specifics, but they know she’s responsible”.

“What’s the deal with Hagen, by the way?” Paul asked.

“Still comatose”, Kermit supplied. “I don’t think he will ever wake up, which only adds up to Gunnar’s motivation to off us— not that he needs a lot to begin with”.

“Do you think he knows what happened to George?” asked Paul then.

“I would think so, yes”, replied Peter. “As I am sure he was the one who sent him in the first place. George was a thief; he lacked the wits to pull off something bigger than his mom’s underwear”.

Kermit and Jim snorted at the jibe.

“So… what did he want with the ring, again?” asked Jim.

“My theory is” Kermit said, “bear in mind, just a theory… that Atherton wanted to rekindle the conflict in the gulf. So that’s why he had General Hellstrom court-martialed via Fa-Jiang and Straker: with General Hellstrom gone from the Dessert Storm Commission, many war criminals would walk and a lot of money would exchange hands. More money means more war and that means even more money for the likes of Atherton. And, if you add the ring to the equation… Well, lore has it, if he seizes that ring, he’ll be invincible”.

“Like in Lord of the Rings?” Jim said incredulously.

“Pretty much”.

“Well, thank god it’s destroyed, then”, said Jim, “and thank God you managed to find whatever Straker had on Fa-Jiang so that he would leave Uncle Albion alone”.

Kermit nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Did he, by the way?” he asked.

“What, leave Uncle Albion alone? Oh, yeah, he just told me, the charges were mysteriously dropped and he was reinstated. No public apology but hey, at least it wasn’t any worse”.

“Indeed”, said Kermit somberly.

Paul sighed heavily and Rykker tutted. Kermit checked at his watch yet again.

“That’s it”, he said, standing up, “I am going to look for her. Something is not right, she might— Caine!” Kermit stopped himself at the sight of the Shaolin priest; he felt his stomach drop to the floor and for a minute he feared he’d pass out. Paul grabbed him by the shoulder and steadied him.

“What— what happened?” Kermit asked hoarsely.

Caine shrugged, but he knew better than to deliver his usual one-liner.

“I… sense her distress. We must find her”, he said simply, and Kermit could have wept with relief at his use of the present tense.

In that very minute Katya walked through the door and confirmed what Caine had already conveyed to them: Sarah was missing.

“I was waiting for her in the parking lot, like always”, Katya said ruefully, “and I heard the bell, so I went over there and— she wasn’t there, just her backpack” she showed it to Kermit pathetically. “I am sorry, Griffin, they must have gotten to her inside the hospital, I should have—”, she punched the wall hard with a small fist.

Kermit waved his hand.

“Not now, Katya”, he said gruffly. “This was bound to happen, I guess. Let’s go”.

He took his Desert Eagle from the bottom drawer of his desk, and wasting no more time, he herded everyone outside, allowing Caine to lead the way. They took Sarah’s SUV because it was the biggest car, and Kermit drove like a madman, a single thought drumming in his mind: _“I must find them, I must find them, I must find them…”_ He was hit by a strong sense of _déjà vu_ and he suddenly realized he had dreamed of this happening… in London, a lifetime ago. Of course, _now_ he knew who “they” were: Sarah and their unborn children.

He floored the gas and sped up through the woods, following Caine’s directions.

 

 

 

Sarah woke up slowly to find herself lying in a rather cold tile floor, shaking, with goose bumps all over, and curled protectively over her belly. The back of her head hurt like hell, and as she tried to move she discovered her hands and feet were tied.

_Fuck._

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_Duh, Sarah, guess again._

She wriggled, and felt the babies kick.

“I know, I _know_ , I want to get out of here as well. Be quiet, now, Mama needs to think…”

She wriggled and writhed some more, but the bindings were strong and well placed. She snorted and tried to sit up, but she couldn’t do even that.

 _Pregnant and Bound, Sarah Griffin’s Most Excellent Adventure,_ her mind said scathingly.

_You know, you made it sound like a cheap porn film._

Sarah laughed despite herself.

_Shut UP!_

_Oh, sorry._

She was just deciding she might as well sleep until something more interesting happened when a boot in her back made her scream in pain.

“Well, well, well”, Straker said derisively, “Kermit’s bitch. It is such a pleasure. So! He decided to shop in the children’s section this time, I see?”

“Really?” said Sarah scathingly, not looking up, as if she was supremely unconcerned by his arrival and his boot digging into her lower back, “you came up with that all by yourself?”

Straker knelt next to her, grabbed Sarah by her thick braid forcefully, nearly snapping her neck, and brought her up to her knees.

“ _Do_ _not_ get flippant with me”, he whispered dangerously, “and _look_ at me when I talk to you”.

Sarah fixed her gaze on him brazenly and spat at him.

 _I’ve always wanted to do that,_ she thought, incongruously gleeful, just before his fist made contact with her face. Blood flew from her nose and she closed her eyes.

_Ouch._

“Do that again and you’ll be very sorry indeed”, Straker warned.

He worked open her coat and grunted as he took in Sarah’s obviously pregnant belly. His eyes gleamed maliciously, as if someone had just offered him Heaven in a silver tray.

“I wasn’t made aware that you were _this_ pregnant” he observed. Then a thought seemed to hit him and he grabbed her left hand rudely, positively gloating then. “He has married you! Oh, this just gets better and better…!”

He hit her again, just for the fun of it, Sarah was sure, and he lowered his head to kiss her savagely.

 

_Oh, no you don’t._

 

Sarah closed her eyes and sent him hurling on his ass to the far end of the room. She was left on her knees, with her hands tied on her back, trying with all her might not to fall over her belly. She wondered why she had never covered with Caine the art of unbind oneself when tied, when the ropes that held her hands and ankles together fell as if severed by an invisible knife.

“Neat”, Sarah cried, astonished.

She stood up laboriously and felt dizzy, leaning into a column for support, which gave her time to notice the room’s décor for the first time, rather dark and elegantly decadent. There was a wide four poster bed in the middle, with black satin curtains and Sarah wanted to laugh out loud at the image. The only thing amiss was the coffin and the fluttering bat, she thought irreverently.

Straker opened his eyes just then and he froze at the sight before him, Sarah _Griffin_ standing in all her pregnant splendor, wrapped in her blue scrub and overcoat, one foot in front of the other and flexing her left arm menacingly.

“Move, and you’ll be very sorry indeed”, she mimicked his previous words. Straker struggled to maintain his dignity, but it was hard to do so lying on the floor with blood dripping out of his nose.

 “Don’t make empty threats, cookie”, he sneered.

Sarah smiled sweetly and lowered her arm violently, sending Straker against the wall. He fell to his side like a ton of bricks and stayed there.

 

“Way to go”, she told herself. “Now get the hell out of here”.

 

She waddled swiftly towards the door and opened it.

 

It was a big mistake.

 

 

Five dark figures walked inside, and although Sarah raised her arm and tried to do something, the truth was she wasn’t quick enough. One of them crossed her face with a forceful blow, two restrained her and the other two went to Straker to put him back to rights. They approached her with murderous intentions and eyed Straker questioningly. Undoubtedly, he was the king of the show.

 

“Knock yourselves out”, was all he said.

 

And so, they began to beat her systematically, as they’d have punched a sparring bag. They didn’t even seem to realize what they were doing, and that scared Sarah more than the throbbing pain spreading in her body. She only but curled over her belly as much as the two men holding her by her arms allowed, trying with all her might to project a shield, but failing; finally, she mercifully blacked out. That didn’t stop Straker, though; he grabbed his companion by the back of his neck and ordered the two men holding Sarah to keep her upright as stepped forward and beat her again and again, blatantly aroused by the sight of her blood.

“Straker!” roared a voice behind them. “Leave her!”

“Atherton”, Straker sneered, heaving, but he stopped.

“You are not to touch her, Straker”, Atherton said, “You know Gunnar’s orders… He’ll be most displeased if they aren’t fulfilled. Now, step back”.

Very reluctantly, Straker and his cronies obeyed, the two holding Sarah letting her fall carelessly to the ground. She didn’t stir. Atherton shot the men a dirty glance and approached the unconscious woman, taking her in his arms and carrying her to the bed.

“Oh, that was sweet”, Straker spat. “I’ll mention it to Griffin, I’m sure he will thank a fellow traitor”.

“Don’t be stupid, Straker. I am not a traitor. Unlike you, I am actually following Gunnar’s orders. He specifically told us not to harm this woman… until he gets here”.

Straker shrugged his shoulders, managing to make the gesture look scathing. Atherton ignored him, and surveyed the woman on the bed. He suddenly took in her pregnancy and faced Straker again, outraged.

“Are you insane?”

“Why do you care all of the sudden? You’ve done worse. Need I remind you?”

“No, you do not. But have you got no brains? That child could mean Gunnar’s death!”

“You _really_ don’t know what you’re talking about, Atherton. Leave this to the big boys”, Straker said derisively.

“You _idiot!!”_ Atherton hit Straker on his already battered face. “He needs something, either from her or from the child, you _know it,_ it was _you_ who told him so, you can’t go about doing your will!”

Atherton looked ad Sarah’s bloodstained face.

“Clean up this mess”, he advised. “If Gunnar sees it—”

“Coward”, Straker spat. He made no move to do as told.

Atherton shook his head and sighed. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed it at Sarah’s face. She was barely awake, but didn’t stir when the cloth touched her skin, deciding feigning unconsciousness was the best course of action. Her face was awfully bruised and her left hand hung limply over the edge of the mattress; Atherton looked at her again and something deep within him cringed. He was a mercenary, but, like Kermit, he had a code of ethics, and pregnant women had always been off bounds. Maybe, just maybe.... Atherton thought, they’d bitten off more than they could chew with this _vendetta_.  He’d wanted to get at Blaisdell and Kermit… but not like this. Never like this. This was bad form, and he suddenly didn’t want to have part in it anymore. Having once regarded Kermit as weak because he refused to partake in violence unless it was unavoidable, having once sneered as his personal code of ethics, Atherton now fully understood for the first time what had made Kermit leave. Atherton quickly smothered that train of thought, though, as his current employer could read minds, and he didn’t want to risk his wrath. Not yet, anyway.

 

~*~

 

They had reached a clearing in the woods, and Caine instructed Kermit to stop the SUV.

“This… is the place”, he said.

The occupants of the SUV looked out the windows, and then turned back to look at Caine, nonplussed.

“Under… ground”, Caine supplied simply, and nodding in assent, they left the SUV and began to search for the entrance.

“Over here!” Jim voiced, signaling to a small square of dirt where the leaves seemed too artfully arranged; “rookie’s mistake”, said Jim derisively and kicked the leaves out of the way. The rest of the party jogged to join him and Caine knelt next to the trap door, breaking the lock open as if it was made of glass.

“How—” Jim began, but Kermit turned to look at him as if saying _don’t ask_ , and Jim clamped his mouth shut.

“All right”, said Kermit roughly, “let’s split up. Paul, you go with Caine, Peter and Rykker. Jim, Katya, you come with me. Let’s go”.

“Lock n’ load, Papa”, Jim said dangerously, and in that moment he was all Kermit; he cocked his firearm and jumped feet-first into the trap hole, closely followed by Kermit, Caine, Paul, Katya and Peter closing ranks. They ran through hallways that had been dug in the ground and split up when they reached the first fork in the road; Kermit took the lead and charged to the left as silently as he could.

“Get back!” he hissed, just as three men marched down the hall, machine guns aloft. Kermit slid between the walls and grabbed one of them by the head, twisting it over his neck effortlessly. The man fell without a sound. Jim, eyes wide open at what he’d just seen, knocked out a second one with an elbow to the man’s nose, and Katya came at the third one with a thin steel cord, strangling him forcefully. They repeated almost the exact scene three of four times, as they encountered new foes, Kermit and Katya in perfect, cold-blooded synchronization, like a couple of sinister ballet dancers, Jim trying his best not to kill the ones he faced, at least. Katya eyed him scornfully.

“Who are you people?” Jim mouthed in amazement as they kept going, praying that they wouldn’t run into anyone else.

“We’re the ones your bosses hire to clean up their messes”, Katya said haughtily.

“Katya” hissed Kermit warningly.

“Well, not you anymore” she agreed.

Jim didn’t know what to say. Now that he had seen first-hand what Kermit was capable of doing, he had finally understood why he had decided not to claim Jim as his child all those years ago. Kermit had been right all along, that wasn’t a life Jim would have wanted for himself, though at the time it might have seemed like he did. Kermit had been strong enough to give him up and let him grow into who he was today. Jim could see that now, and feel grateful. Lost in his musings, but still trotting resolutely forward, Jim almost didn’t see his father shooting the gun out of a guard’s hand— a move Kermit had been famous for as a mercenary and that he still used as a Detective. The guard looked around him wildly to locate the source of the bullet, but Kermit was well hidden. Katya snuck up silently behind the guard and clocked him over the head.

“Come on!” she motioned Jim and Kermit, who followed her through the stainless steel door and into another hallway, this one brightly lit by fluorescent lights. Kermit blinked, momentarily blinded.

“Where to?” Katya asked, panting slightly.

There were three doors scattered through the hallway, two on their right and a smaller one to their left.

“Should we just each take one?” Jim suggested, and Kermit nodded in assent. With their guns at the ready, father and son took the doors on the right while Katya walked resolutely towards the one on the left.

 

 

 

 

  Sarah woke with the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She moved laboriously and tried to curl over herself, to no avail. Her limbs were numb and incredibly sore, and they felt… _strained_ even.  She blinked and tried to move an arm. Nothing. She tried a leg next, and she distinctly felt something tugging at her ankle. She felt the babies move about and let out a very quiet but relieved sigh, trying her other arm. _Nada._

“What the hell?” she said, a bit hoarsely. She blinked again, trying to adjust to the darkness around her and she saw she was still in the same room as before, but she had been tied by her arms and legs with strong chains to shackles that sprang from the floor and ceiling. Sarah laughed despite of the gravity of the situation; because she was sure she looked like an already battered star-shaped piñata, complete with the stuffing about to fall off of her.

 _Stop laughing, you_ ninny, _this is serious!_ She told herself, but she couldn’t stop, and she laughed hysterically until she ran out of air. She tried to get her wind back, and she briefly considered the thought of blasting her way out by sheer magic— _yeah, because it went so well the first time_ , her mind chided her—, but she distinctly heard Caine’s voice in her head telling her to wait; so she wriggled some more in hopes of loosening her restraints, and as that didn’t work out, she summoned the images of Kermit being tortured as a teenager without breaking, to remind herself he’d endured much worse than this and had lived to tell the tale. Dimly, she began to register an unpleasant feeling in her body, and snapping back into reality, she realized it was her gravid belly, tensing up and contracting to a peak, then relaxing again.

“Shit, not now, not now” she said softly, “seriously, _not now”._

_Could you tell me the first cause of preterm labor, doctor, if you please?_   She asked herself inside her own head, as if she was in the middle of a lecture and not tied up and beaten to a pulp in the middle of nowhere.

 _Multiple pregnancy,_ she answered herself dutifully.

_And what else?_

_Trauma to the abdomen, high levels of stress, maternal age._

_Well, duh! If it quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, I’d say—_ but another contraction cut through her train of thought. Sarah gritted her teeth, breathing silently through the pain, as the last thing she wanted was to alert them of this new development. This was her first childbirth, she told herself, so she surmised she still had a good eight to twelve hours to go before she absolutely had to do something about it; and, she supposed, if the worse came to worst, she still remembered enough of her OB/Gyn rotation to deliver them herself, assuming they’d untie her, of course.

“What would MacGyver do?” she said out loud and laughed hysterically again.

“You think you’re funny?” a voice came from the shadows. Slow, measured footsteps approached Sarah and came to a halt somewhere to her left. The lights flickered and a bright fluorescent bulb came to life just above Sarah’s head. She blinked repeatedly.

“You think he’s coming for you, don’t you”, Straker said derisively, slapping her almost playfully.

“I _know_ he is”, she said through gritted teeth, not entirely out of challenge, but because another contraction had just started.

“Oh, isn’t that _sweet!”_ Straker mocked her. He pulled at a sheave to his left and the shackle through which the chains that held Sarah’s left hand passed shot upward, pulling Sarah’s arm with it. She didn’t cry out, but it was a close thing.

“Proud little thing, aren’t you?”

“What is this?” asked Sarah hoarsely, “A bondage suspension contraption?”

“Oh, and naughty, too!” Straker said cheekily; he pulled at the sheave a little more and Sarah winced in pain, but remained silent.

“I will break you” Straker said, echoing the words he’d once said to Caine.

“I am sure you will”, Sarah conceded, “but I have a feeling that you need to bare your soul first”.

Straker hit her again, this time across her swollen belly. Tears of pain spilled down Sarah’s cheeks, and the fluorescent light above her wavered. She had to fight the need to vomit with all her might, succeeding… for the time being. The light shimmered again. Straker eyed her pensively.

“It’s you doing it, isn’t it? Just like before”.

Sarah saw no point in denying it. She nodded, blinking away her tears.

“Well, so I was right! They finally managed to create one!” Straker exclaimed, and now it was his turn to laugh hysterically. Sarah spat out some blood, but remained stubbornly silent, knowing that Straker was dying for her to ask him what he meant.

“Oh, yes”, he was saying then, “we know _all_ about the prophecy, Sarah. In fact, it was first unearthed by _my_ family… until the goddamned Shaolin monks stole it and took it to Shambhala.

“C—Caine?” Sarah stammered, still reeling from the blow to her belly.

“Caine!” Straker repeated scathingly. “Caine wasn’t even thought of yet when my family discovered it! But no matter, it’s… unimportant now. My family tried to create the Two-Blooded Shield for centuries to no avail. They even had a branch of the family solely devoted to recreate the prophecy, with women specially honed for the task”.

“The… task?” asked Sarah, curious against her will.

“Of carrying the Shield” Straker said impatiently. “Western men were chosen to mate with them and the resulting offspring was thoroughly checked for the signs at birth: white skin, dark hair… and of course… magic. The ones who didn’t fulfill the requirements… were tossed away. Killed in most cases… most recently just given up for adoption”.

A bell of recognition began to sound in the back of Sarah’s brain.

“That’s—”

“… What happened to you, yes”, Straker said indifferently, “your mother belonged to that branch of the Xiã Family. So did my mother. I was also given up, to my father, in my case, because I was of no use, being a two-blooded, magicless, olive-skinned male. The Shield had to be female, you see?”

“Wait, so you’re my—”

“Distant cousin, yes”, Straker said gravelly.

“Man, this is some fucked up family tree”, Sarah wheezed. Unbelievably, Straker laughed.

“I once told Caine we were kindred spirits, and he misunderstood what I meant” Straker said, “he failed to recognize a botched attempt at the Shield when he had it in front of him”.

“You mean… Caine… also—?”

“Oh, yes, the Caine family was _very_ interested in that prophecy” Straker admitted, “for a good cause, of course, but all in all… didn’t you ever wonder why so many Shaolin priests in that family mated with occidental women? They did it the other way around, to see if it yielded better results, but to no avail. And… they kept engendering males; powerful males, to be sure, but useless in terms of the prophecy”.

Sarah closed her eyes, riding out another contraction silently. The fluorescent light flickered more violently this time. Straker looked up, shrugged and continued.

“But… then it turned out we didn’t have the full prophecy, and the part we did have, we mistranslated it”, he continued bitterly, “it was then when the Xiã Family realized they might have tossed away hundreds of perfectly good Shields throughout the centuries, looking for magic when they most likely wouldn’t show it. The freaking Shield had to get laid for her magic to awaken!”

“That’s not—” protested Sarah, panting.

“That’s not what it says?” Straker echoed, “I am impressed, I didn’t think you knew the prophecy! It says something along the lines of her magic being in eternal slumber… until awoken by the knight without fear, right?”

Sarah remained silent, not knowing if Straker had left the part about the twin flame out on purpose or because he didn’t know it.

“Right?” he insisted, and struck her again.

“Right, right!”  Sarah wept, just as another contraction began. _Oh, please, no, not here, not here!_

“Now, that presented a problem, didn’t it”, Straker said, almost to himself. “We had spent centuries trying to engender the Shield, and we hadn’t once looked for someone remotely resembling a fearless knight; we assumed it would mean the Shaolin priests, and we were wrong again”. Straker loosened the sheaves marginally and Sarah was able to flex her elbows slightly. She whimpered again and the lights went out and back on again.

“It’ll be over soon” Straker assured her, caressing her tear-stained cheek. Sarah closed her eyes and jerked her head away from him.

“Which brings us to the last generation of Shields”, Straker went on, “yours. We decided to stop trying to recreate the prophecy and just rewrite our own. Jing-Li had been especially honed and trained all her life, you see? So that she’d earn the right to mother the Shield. She got a snake tattooed on her back when she was eighteen, and from that moment on, she was known as the Viper in the ranks”.

“The Viper Mother”, Sarah whispered hoarsely.

“Precisely” Straker said, “And she was deadly. We thought that, with the right siring and the correct upbringing we might produce a powerful Shield and sway her towards our cause. She was supposed to bed Atherton to that end… But she ruined it!” Straker hit Sarah hard on her left temple, making her head bob above her neck; that guy had worse mood swings than a teenager: “She had to go and fuck that good for nothing Blaisdell!”

“So this is what it’s all about!” Sarah said, blowing through her lips in a vain effort to keep the blood from her nose away from her mouth: “It’s not… the killing of half his family… it’s just that Atherton is pissed… that Jing-Li chose Blaisdell instead! Still…your little exchange earlier… left me with the impression that… Atherton is beginning to get cold feet. Maybe… he realized… he wasn’t the craziest wakko in the nuthouse, after a—” another swift blow was delivered to her midriff, effectively getting the wind knocked out of her, cutting her off in mid-sentence. She dry-heaved, her eyes streaming, and then she coughed and spat some more blood. For a minute there she almost fainted, but remained conscious out of sheer will.

“SHUT UP!” Straker wailed wildly. He seemed quite deranged all of a sudden.

Another contraction hit Sarah and this time she couldn’t swallow the scream of pain that came to her lips; she hoisted herself up pulling at the manacles, trying to curl into a fetal position, to no avail. A strong smell of ozone filled the air, and the light shimmered violently above her head. Straker stopped sputtering and came closer to her.

“It has started, hasn’t it?” he asked her gleefully. “How long have you been in labor?”

Sarah didn’t answer, screwing up her face in agony, trying with all her might to remain silent. She breathed rapidly through her mouth and hung her head when the contraction ended, panting.

“You’re a tough little cookie, I’ll give you that” Straker said, “taken after the Viper, I’d say, because Blaisdell didn’t have it in him”.

“ _Don’t—!”_ Sarah choked out, and the chains holding her left hand gave away, falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Sarah moved her arm gingerly and put it to her belly protectively, openly weeping now.

“Impressive, my little Shield, but useless”, Straker said. “As soon as your labor began, the last part of the prophecy came into effect”.

“Last— last part?” she rasped.

“Yes… Didn’t Caine tell you? For the longest time, the end of the prophecy was unknown, until very recently. Gunnar sort of… stumbled upon it earlier this year, and after managing to translate the gist of it, he contacted Atherton and me and… well, as they say, the rest is history!”

“And what— what does it… say?” spluttered Sarah, already fearing the answer.

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it”, Straker said, pinching her bloodied cheek, “suffice it to say that that kid’s blood will bring us victory”.

Sarah sobbed painfully.

“What, you’re not going to beg for your life?” Straker said slyly, “for your baby’s life?”

“Would it… would it do any good?” Sarah gasped.

“No”.

“Hence… why… I don’t beg”, she replied, trying with all her might to remain conscious. Straker was afraid of her magic, but if she fainted, Straker would retrieve the babies by force, she was sure of it. Still, pain, exhaustion and fear welled inside of her and she didn’t know how much longer she’d manage to resist.

 

“Step away from her, Straker” Kermit’s cold voice was heard then from the threshold. The fluorescent light glowed brightly at the sound, and Sarah gave a sob of relief. Straker turned and saw Kermit pointing the Desert Eagle at him; he raised his hands half way into the air as if in surrender, and then he tried to pull out his own gun. Kermit shot it out of his fingers without batting an eyelash.

“The next one goes inside your head”, Kermit warned him.

“You don’t have the balls anymore, Griffin”, Straker taunted him, “being a cop and all… you won’t shoot me point blank”.

“Try me”, said Kermit dangerously.  Straker looked at him fractionally, just as Jim, Katya and Caine joined Kermit at the door; Straker turned swiftly and bolted down a trap door concealed near the place where Sarah still hung from the ceiling by one arm. Kermit holstered his gun and ran to his wife.

“Oh, Sweetcakes— Sweetcakes—” he murmured, showering her with kisses even as Caine crushed the chains that restrained her with his bare hands, as if they were made of sugar; Kermit caught her in his arms as she was released and held her to him, rocking her softly: “look at your face, you’re bleeding, oh, god, Sweetcakes—” he wiped her face gently with the sleeve of his blazer and winced as he took in the assorted collection of bruises and welts that adorned her visage.

“Kermit—” Sarah managed to choke out, certain she would soon pass out.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shook her head, still crying.

“No… Fozzie… and Gonzo… are about… to crash… the party”, she said laboriously, as another contraction hit her, effectively snatching her away from merciful unconsciousness: “we… must… _Must_ … get—Ow, AWAY!” she exclaimed in pain, “because Gunnar… Gunnar wants the babies”.

Kermit nodded and led her to the door, coldly filing away his overwhelming concern into a recess of his brain so that it wouldn’t hinder him just then. Jim went to Sarah’s other side and held her arm so that she could lean on both of them. As they made their way out of the underground compound, excruciatingly slowly, Sarah repeated Straker’s evil gloating to her rescuers.

“He… said that Gunnar found the end of the prophecy…. It was… Gunnar’s idea… all along…” she panted, “Not Atherton’s… if anything… Atherton is regretting it… he stopped… Straker the first… time he hit me… Oh, fuck me sideways, _it hurts!”_ she exclaimed, breathing rapidly, “S-Straker… said the baby’s blood will bring… them… victory… He… doesn’t… seem to know there are two… he didn’t mention the… twin flame… thing, he— Oh, God, stop, here comes another one!”

Kermit and Jim held her by the arms as she rode out another contraction.

 _“Shitshitshitshitshitshit”_ she let out in a single breath, “that one hurt—!”

Katya eyed her nervously.

“Are they supposed to hurt this much and be this close together?” she asked, out of real concern, “I mean, I haven’t given birth myself, but this is your first delivery, no? Isn’t it supposed to take forever the first time?”

Sarah nodded in assent.

“Yes… you… you are right… this isn’t normal… this is progressing… too… fast. Maybe because of the… the beating… I don’t know… or…” she frowned, “he did… seem to be expecting that I’d… go into labor… maybe they gave me some oxy while… I was passed out?”

“Oxy?”

“Oxytocin… It’s… a hormone… ” Sarah panted, “and a synth—synthetic drug used to induce childbirth”.

Kermit blanched.

“Come on, Sweetcakes”, he said briskly, “let’s get you to the hospital”.

They managed to exit the subterranean compound undisturbed, Caine lifting Sarah effortlessly over his head to push her out the trap door. Kermit and Jim helped her to her feet, but they only managed to walk a couple of meters when they had to stop again; and, as the pale blue moon shone above, Sarah’s wail of pain pierced the chilly October night. Kermit’s skin crawled at that, the superstitious part of him sure it couldn’t mean anything good.

Peter helped Paul climb out and Caine knelt next to Sarah, pressing two fingers to the small of her back. The pain subsided enough to permit her to regain her footing and keep walking towards the SUV.

“Straker… said… you… were a … botched Shield… as well”, Sarah said to Caine.

Caine shrugged.

“He… seems to believe that”, he agreed.

“And… he said… that you also… knew… the end… of the prophecy”.

Caine shrugged.

“I… did”.

Kermit stared.

“And didn’t it occur to you to tell us?” he barked.

“You… would not have allowed the fulfillment of the prophecy”, Caine said simply. Kermit took impulse to punch the Shaolin in the face, but they had reached the SUV and Sarah fell to her knees, as another contraction gripped her body.

“No, no, not here!” she whimpered, holding her belly convulsively with the hand Kermit had released. Kermit jumped forward and held his wife until the contraction passed, and then helped her into the back seat of the SUV. He noticed that Jim was looking at his wristwatch and raised an eyebrow in mute inquiry.

“Just timing them” Jim said simply, “the doctors will want to know”.

Kermit patted his son gratefully on the shoulder and ran towards the driver’s seat. The rest of the rescue party clambered inside the SUV and as soon as Paul fastened his seatbelt, Kermit turned on the engine and floored the gas, rattling out of the clearing as fast as he could.

“We… must stop”, said Caine, feeling Sarah’s belly with his hands, “the babies are coming”.

“I am _NOT_ having these babies in the middle of nowhere!” Sarah snarled through clenched teeth, “Who am I, freaking Virgin Mary— Oh, MOTHERFUCKER, this hurts so bad!”

Katya snorted with laughter.

“Not with that language, you aren’t” she said amusedly. Sarah pinned her down with a murderous look, and all the lights in the SUV flickered.

“There is… no time”, Caine insisted.

“Oh, _I’ll make_ time!” Sarah said dangerously, “there is _no way_ I am delivering a set of premature twins in a hole in the ground. I need… a FUCKING hospital… and. I.need.it.NOW!”

“Ya tell’im, Mama!” piped in Jim.

“We’re almost there, Sweetcakes!” Kermit yelled from the front, bringing the SUV to maximum speed.

Suddenly, four heavy armored all-terrain Jeeps came charging out of the woods, and they quickly surrounded the SUV, effectively offing any means of escape. Kermit stepped on the break with both feet and braced himself for the impact.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PARENTAL ADVISORY CONTENT, IT CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE

 

“Jim, hold Sarah!” Kermit shrieked, screwing up his face in anticipation; the SUV came to a halt just half and inch away from one of the jeeps’ passenger door and everyone inside jangled about violently. Groups of armed men descended from the vehicles and pointed their machine guns at the SUV.

“Oh, this is FUBAR!” Jim screeched.

“We’re obscenely outnumbered”, Rykker stated the obvious.

“Get off the vehicle!” one of the men yelled then, cocking his gun.

“Shite, shite, shite!” Katya swore, “What are we going to do?! She’s in bleeding labor, we can’t—”

Sarah looked at her wildly. Apparently, it only had taken a little bit of magic, an emergency thoracotomy, a bunch of assailants bursting into flames, Jim’s southern charm and two children popping out of her for Katya to not only cease hostilities but to actually show real empathy towards her; Sarah panted through another contraction and tried to sit up, to no avail.

“She… must face them”, Caine said.

 _“Who_ must face them?” asked Peter incredulously, “Surely you don’t mean Sarah, Pop?”

“It is… written”, Caine said, shrugging.

“FUCK your prophecy and FUCK you in particular!” snarled Kermit at the end of his wits, “you and I are _through_ , do you hear me? This is the last time you’ve endangered MY WIFE! Now keep your fucking heads down!”

Kermit slid the lever into first fear, fully intending to crash his way out of there, but the lever jutted back into neutral on its own.

“Sarah—” he rasped, a tear rolling behind his glasses into his beard, “please don’t do this!”

“I— have to…” Sarah panted, “Otherwise they’ll just... hose us down with bullets and… have done with it. You… know how this… is. We can’t… just… run away from the… stupid… proph—prophecy” she gasped for air. “Come… come on… help me out now that this contraction just ended…. I don’t know how much time I’ve got until the— NEXT ONE!” she yelped, because the next one had just started.

Kermit turned off the SUV and tried to pull himself together.

“I am coming out!” he yelled at the armed men, “Paul, talk to her, she’s your daughter, make her see reason”, he added, and kicked his door open, sliding out with his hands in the air. Jim made a move to follow him, but Kermit shook his head in denial.

“Griffin”, Straker drawled from somewhere in the circle of dark-clad men, “where are you taking my little cousin? We’ve only just become acquainted!”

“She is in labor, Straker” said Kermit through a clenched jaw, “Show a little humanity”.

Straker laughed coldly.

“I _know_ she is; actually, we were counting on it”, he said, “We kind of need her to fulfill a little prophecy, you see?”

“No!” Kermit yelped, striding forward, fully intending to kill Straker and thinking disconnectedly he should have done it when he’d had the chance; in that moment, the passenger’s door of one of the jeeps swung open violently, and just as Kermit took aim at Straker’s head, Gunnar raised his hand, a bolt of lightning shooting from his fingers, and shocked Kermit into the ground.

“Get her” Gunnar hissed at his henchmen.

“Help me out!” Sarah said urgently inside the SUV, struggling to sit up.

“Sarah, be reasonable, there is nothing you can do”, said Paul softly. “Kermit is… sacrificing himself so that we can get you out”.

“Like I’d let him do that”, Sarah said, and something in her voice made the rest of the occupants of the SUV turn and look at her, all color draining from their faces as their minds wrapped around the sight before them.

Sarah was shrouded in a soft, pulsing, silvery glow, which swirled and curled around her. Her face had changed, too, and it was now set in a pugnacious stance, pale and glowing, as if it had been carved in porcelain. The bruises and caked blood that had covered her visage were dulled, almost gone, and her hair had become undone, falling down her back in a shiny cascade. She moved one hand languidly and the back seat door was blasted off its hinges.

“Dagnabbit, Mama!” Jim breathed, half amazed, half appalled.

“Step aside, boys” Sarah hissed dangerously, “this fat lady is about to sing”.

“Pop! Pop, stop her!” Peter shrieked hysterically, to no avail, as Caine remained impassive and staring into the distance, as if in a trance.

Sarah glided out of the SUV and floated down slowly until her bare feet touched the ground. Try as she might, she didn’t remember when or where had she lost her shoes. The cold October breeze blew her hair away from her face and, holding her belly with one hand, she walked slowly ahead, until she stopped right in front of Kermit.

Straker gave a derisive laugh.

“Need a woman to protect you now, Griffin?”

“Stop… your mundane… taunts”, hissed Gunnar from behind him.

Sarah looked at him in horror, as Gunnar seemed to be falling apart at the seams: there was no trace of the uptight and somewhat handsome butler she had met at Rykker’s; his skin was gray and flaky, his fingernails, yellow and brittle, his gums toothless and his hair falling off even as they spoke; apparently, sharing his body with the Shadow hadn’t sat too well with him.

“Get… her…” Gunnar hissed again.

Kermit fired a round from the ground, taking down four men. The retaliation was immediate and with extreme prejudice, but Sarah raised up her left arm to shield Kermit and herself, even as she waved her right arm and blasted the remaining men off their feet, a couple of machine guns firing into the air before blowing up to smithereens. A pack of wolves began to howl in the distance.

“HOLY SHIT!” screamed Jim from the SUV.  Peter got off the car pulling out his Beretta, but Caine yanked him back inside by the collar of his shirt.

“Do… not interfere” he said, sternly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Peter shrieked, “How far, eh? How far will you go to defeat this evil, Pop? Are you willing to sacrifice four lives?” Peter made a move to get off the SUV, but again, Caine stopped him. Paul, Rykker and Jim were all trying to get a clear shot at either Gunnar or Straker, but Sarah was in the crossfire and they didn’t risk it. Katya was hyperventilating.

“GET HER!” Gunnar screeched, “I need her blood with the blue MOON!”

Incredibly, Caine laughed when he heard him. Jim and Peter turned to look at him.

“They… misinterpreted the prophecy… again”, Caine said, still chortling; and it wasn’t exactly a reassuring sight.

 

Outside, Kermit sprang to his feet and Sarah motioned him to stand behind her.

“Sarah—” he shook his head ruefully; how could he cower away behind her? It was _his_ duty to protect her, not the other way around!

 _“No, no…”_ he heard her voice in his head, _“Hold me, Siegfried, I don’t know how much longer I can stay upright”._

Kermit nodded in assent and went to stand behind her, wrapping both hands

around her burgeoning belly, feeling it tense under his fingers. He could only imagine the amount of pain Sarah was currently in, if the shaking of her body in his arms was any indication.

“KILL HER!” Gunnar yowled.

Straker lunged forward, brandishing a big combat knife in his hand, and ran face-first into Sarah’s shield, bouncing backwards; he charged ahead once more, howling, only to fall on his ass again. He looked at the couple before him, at how Kermit was holding her so that she’d remain upright, and smiled inwardly. He turned to look at Gunnar, who nodded and shot a bolt of lightning towards the shield, even as a couple of his remaining cronies dosed the SUV with bullets. It worked like a charm: Sarah’s attention was divided between the pain of labor, the need to shield herself and her husband, and the instinctive need of protecting the people in the SUV, so the shield she had projected shattered and she fell to her knees, panting through the pain. The muscles of her neck stood out, her veins pulsing, her hands squeezing her abdomen jerkily. She screamed in agony and the invisible expansive wave that emanated from her blasted Kermit away from her. The wolves howled again.

Straker seized his change and snuck behind her, taking the same position Kermit had had seconds ago; he put the knife to Sarah’s neck, yanking her head back by her hair, and he ripped off forcefully her scrubs bottom, throwing the tattered remains aside, holding her still as tore off her underwear and felt between her legs rudely. Inside the SUV, Jim sat up indignantly, fully intending to get off the car, but Caine stopped him.

“She’s almost ready”, Straker informed Gunnar, as Kermit emitted an inarticulate howl and launched himself towards Straker and Sarah; Gunnar shot another bolt of lightning in his direction and Kermit fell down like a sack of potatoes, one of Gunnar’s henchmen placing a boot to his neck for good measure.

“Where is that coward Caine?” Gunnar spoke with a high-pitched whine and Sarah knew suddenly that it was the Shadow speaking, “sent a woman to do his job, did he? Kneel before me, Woman, you stand no chance against me; and when I have you prostrated before me… I shall take what I require from you… Cut her open, Straker; kill the spawn and retrieve the water bags”.

Kermit issued an inhuman sound from the ground, and tried to wriggle free, but the man restraining him put the Kalashnikov to his head, which quieted him immediately. Above all, he didn’t want Sarah to see how he was executed. This time, Caine failed to stop both Peter and Jim from climbing out of the vehicle, guns drawn and screaming like lunatics. Katya followed suit and they began to fire at will as they ran.  Wolves came out slowly from the trees, panting, the moonlight shining in their yellow eyes.

Straker yanked Sarah’s hair again and murmured in her ear:

“And the spoils of war will be _mine_ …” he swirled his tongue up Sarah’s neck and breathed in the scent of her hair.

It happened in the blink of an eye: Sarah lacked the physical strength, but she had the anatomical knowledge, so her hand shot behind her and she hooked her fingers into Straker’s crotch, squeezing savagely. Straker screamed in pain.

“I assure you I _don’t_ need magic to rip it off”, her tone was low, steady, and so very dangerous that everyone stopped in mid-motion to look at her, and it was Sarah’s turn to seize her chance: as Straker fell on his knees, clutching his crotch in agony, she kneed him forcefully in the base of his skull and Straker tumbled to the ground.

“You…Owed me!” Sarah panted through gritted teeth. She threw her head back and wailed almost melodically, making the trees rattle around them, and the wolves howl in response. It was terrifying.

“It… will… die…” Straker taunted her, through a mouthful of blood: “you know what’s happening… to you…” and he crawled on all fours, in an effort to grab her again.

“DON’T!” Sarah screamed, holding out a hand. A bright beam of white light shot from her palm and Straker was reduced to a pile of smoking ashes on the ground.

“Holy shit, Mama nuked him, Mama just _nuked his ass!”_ Jim screeched hysterically.

 

Most of the few remaining henchmen ran for their lives at that, and the wolves dashed after them, howling. A small group of five or six men still lurched forward to try and seize Sarah. The remaining wolves began to circle them, snapping their jaws at them; Peter, Katya and Jim ran to meet the henchmen, swiftly joined by Caine, who had finally snapped out of his trance. The men were subdued quickly and Caine hurried towards Sarah, who was shaking on all fours near the pile of ashes. Deep red streaks ran down her legs and the halo that surrounded her was flickering. Kermit reached her first and he positioned himself between his wife and Caine.

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!” he bellowed, and then he turned to kneel beside Sarah.

“Sweetcakes, what— what— blood— oh _God_ —” he stammered.

“I think… a placenta teared”, Sarah managed weakly, “Oh, god, Kermit, I _can’t_ , it hurts so much—” she choked, “it feels like something… ripped open!”

“You… must fight, Sarah”, Caine said, inching towards them. Kermit sprang to his feet and delivered a blow squarely to the Shaolin’s face. Caine staggered backwards, but he didn’t budge; he deflected Kermit’s next punch easily and Kermit’s forward momentum launched him on his head to the ground. A wolf trotted towards him to inspect him, and it nudged him awake with its snout; In the meantime, Gunnar had reached Sarah: he pushed her forcefully and she fell on her side next to the pile of ashes. Gunnar ran a hand between Sarah’s legs, pulling it back drenched in blood to rub it all over his face with a mad expression in his ruined features.

“Eww!” exclaimed Katya from afar as Gunnar licked his fingers delightedly.

“Your blood shall make me immortal…”the Shadow sighed through Gunnar’s vocal cords: “thank you for making it so easy, Shaolin”.

Kermit lunged forward yet again, gun in hand, and this time it was Jim who restrained him.

“You’re making it worse, Papa”, he choked out, “let her get it over with”.

Caine ignored Gunnar’s jibes and knelt next to Sarah, who had curled up into a whimpering ball.

“I know it hurts”, Caine murmured, “You must… fight. _This_ is your rite of passage, Sarah. The prophecy will be fulfilled, but you need to fight”.

Sarah nodded almost imperceptibly, tears of pain spilling down her cheeks; Jim was also crying, even as he restrained Kermit forcefully, and Kermit shook in his embrace, heaving like a wounded beast. Caine helped Sarah to her feet and she walked unsteadily towards Gunnar.

“And still you would face me?” Gunnar chuckled, baring his toothless gums in a grimace, “YOU SHOULD BE ON YOUR KNEES BEFORE ME!” he bellowed; he went for Kermit, who’d broken free of Jim’s embrace and was sprinting towards Sarah, closely followed by the wolf. Sarah raised a hand and deflected Gunnar’s bolt easily.

“Awesome” gasped Jim in awe.

“I do not kneel before anyone”, said Sarah then, in a deathly tone that reverberated through the woods; “I choose the Slain!”

Her hair flew wildly in the wind as she let out a bloodcurdling wail, anguished, agonic, full of pain, musical like a Siren’s call, and a thousand times more powerful than the singing voice of hers that had made five-hundred people cry; the wolves echoed her cry in the distance, a gush of bright red blood cascaded down her legs and a blinding flash of white light seemed to seep out her every pore, and expanded steadily in a bright halo.  Kermit saw her winged tattoo glow in the darkness, magnified a thousand times, and he was sure Sarah would simply fly away and he’d lose her forever. Suddenly he fell to his knees as he felt the pain she was in, every ounce of it, and he turned his head to the side to be violently ill, just as Gunnar began to shriek when the light touched him.

“No, NOOO!” he howled as he melted, leaving only a charred puddle behind.

The light disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared, and Kermit blinked trying to will away the bright spots he saw dancing before his eyes. Wiping his mouth, he stumbled onward, unsteadily, still blinded, trying to reach Sarah.

“Kermit! Kermit!” he heard her voice nearby, hoarse and trembling, “God, Siegfried, they’re coming!”

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

Kermit could see again, but he wished that he couldn’t. Sarah was on her knees a few feet away, bleeding like a fountain and holding her belly with shaking hands; she was deathly pale and her face was contorted in a grimace of pain. The wolf howled miserably next to her, and far away, the rest of the pack answered in kind. Kermit felt his skin crawl.

“Quickly…” Caine said calmly to Kermit, “get behind her and hold her arms”.

Kermit did as he was told, all animosity towards Caine momentarily forgotten. He entwined his fingers with hers as she used his forearms as anchor while she bore down forcefully. Kermit wondered idly where on earth did she get such strength from while Caine positioned himself in front of Sarah and reached between her trembling, blood-smeared thighs.

“They’re here, Sarah”, he said softly. “You must… push”.

“I AM!” Sarah wailed raggedly, “but it’s breaking, oh, it’s _tearing_ me in half!”

She pushed down again, gritting her teeth; her hair was drenched in sweat and plastered to her head, and small blood vessels had broken on her cheeks from the effort. Caine motioned to Katya imperiously.

“I need… your help”, he said.

“Oh, no, I can’t catch it!” Katya shrieked.

“Oh, move over!” Jim snarled, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and shooting forward resolutely. Katya scuttled away just as Sarah grunted deep in her throat and a small, gelatinous bag slid out of her body. Caine caught it swiftly, tore the bag open, a rosy liquid gushing between his fingers. The baby broke in sputtering mewls, and Caine touched the umbilical cord with a finger and severed it as if he’d seared it. Jim stared.

“Take her”, Caine ordered him, “here comes the other one. Kermit, hold Sarah”.

Kermit had relaxed his grip on his wife as she rode the aftermath of their daughter’s birth, but he held onto her again as Sarah wept in pain. Nevertheless, when the time came, she drew a big gulp of air and bore down again, and the second baby slid out of her, drenched in blood and fully attached to the placenta, which came out in shreds. Caine severed the cord again wrapped the baby, gave him to Peter and rose to his feet.

“He’s not… crying…” Sarah croaked throatily, “make him… breathe… make him—!” she howled, just as the baby boy sputtered in Peter’s arms and emitted a high-pitched yowl. The wolves howled again. A thunder rumbled nearby and a lightning fell through a tree not far from the SUV. Caine retrieved the babies quickly and put them in Sarah’s quivering arms.

“Shield them” he ordered her, “now”.

Kermit looked at her in awe as she managed to produce a shield despite all that she’d just gone through, just as a lightning reverberated above their heads and bounced off the invisible force that covered them. The same bright light that had vanquished Gunnar seeped out of Sarah again and enveloped the babies in her arms until the glow dimmed and the blue moon shone brightly above. The wolves howled once more and disappeared back into the depths of the woods.

“We… must go”, said Caine then, taking the babies from Sarah’s arms and handing one to Peter and the other to Jim. He touched a hand to Sarah’s belly and that seemed to stem the flow of blood somewhat, but Kermit wondered if it wasn’t too late already; Sarah’s skin wasn’t lily-white anymore, but ashen gray and Kermit just managed to catch her before she completely keeled over.  At long last, she had fainted.

Kermit carried her to the SUV, stepping over the torn door, and laid her on the back seat, covering her with his blazer. He then sat beside her, lifting her head so that it would rest in his lap. Caine clambered inside through the other side, and Peter gave the baby he carried to Jim and jumped in the driver’s seat.

Paul blanched at the sight of his daughter and stared at Kermit wildly.

“What—?”

“Perhaps”, Rykker cut in, “some of us should stay and guard this crime scene?”

Katya nodded swiftly.

“I’ll stay with you”, she said, “You gents go ahead, now!”

Peter started the SUV and drove frantically, eating miles at top speed, while Caine tried to stem the endless flow of blood with all means, mystical and non-mystical at his disposal. Sarah stirred and moaned softly.

“Kermit…” she whispered; she didn’t seem to have the energy to speak, “I… I… love… you… Take…” she gulped for air, “Take… care… of them…”

“No, NO, NO! _No_ , Sweetcakes!” Kermit bellowed, “Don’t do this to me, please! Hold on, please hold on!” he begged her painfully.

“Mama, Mama, hang in there!” Jim blurted out, still holding onto his brother and sister. But Sarah didn’t answer.

Peter drove as if the hounds of hell were behind them and he managed to get to County General in next to no time at all. Kermit left him to deal with the car and galloped through the Emergency Room’s door carrying the unconscious Sarah in his arms, with Jim and Paul each holding a wailing baby on tow and Caine closing ranks, leaving a track of blood behind them. Sarah was limp as a rag, her head lolling backwards at a pronounced angle and her arms hanging floppily on her sides. A part of Kermit’s brain wondered how much blood could she have left.

“Oh, my _GOD!_ ” a nurse screeched from the counter, “That’s Doctor _Greene!_ Jonah, quick, get a stretcher!”

The response that got was immediate and amazing. White-robed individuals in scrubs ran towards them from all directions, and Sarah was deposited in a rolling stretcher and pushed away by a whole lot of people, all of them talking at the same time. Two more nurses came by and took the babies from Jim and Paul, and walked away hurriedly. Kermit followed his wife into a small cubicle, soundly ignoring the nurse that asked him to wait outside, please. Frankie, the redheaded ER doctor who seemed to always be on call when something happened to either Sarah or her close relations, looked at her with wide eyes but put his feelings aside, and taking the lead, he raised his voice above the ruckus:

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! Get me two IV lines, Genie, quick; Jenny, Saline and Ringer, a thousand cc each, IV push… Diana, an oxygen mask, 10 liters per minute; Marie, call Blood Bank and get me three RBC packs and some PTS as well… Sonia, call Jürgens and tell him to meet me at the OR in five minutes… Cynthia, I will need a blood count, coagulation test, electrolytes and blood chemistry… Mariel… pass her 10 milligrams of oxy and 1 amp of ceftriaxone. Charlotte, tell me her vitals.”

“BP 80/40, pulse 130, and RF 23. Give me a minute with the temperature”.

“God, she’s in shock. Jenny, add another warm Ringer and let them all at free flow. Now, Wendy…”

Kermit listened to what he was saying but didn’t understand a word; he felt completely alien to that place and to the swirl of white coats and bamboozling orders, and he watched silently as the nurses fussed around Sarah.

“Sarah?” the redhead bent over her stretcher and rubbed at her sternum with his knuckles. Sarah didn’t stir. In that minute, Dr. Sabourin, Head of the Emergency Department (and a very close friend of Caine’s), poked her head through the curtains.

“I saw Caine outside and—” she began, but stopped in mid-sentence as she took in the scene before her: “Is that _Sarah?”_

Frankie nodded painfully. Dr. Sabourin walked in, appalled at the sight of her former student lying unconscious on the stretcher; her unnaturally pale skin looking almost blue against the pasty sheets, her face half-concealed by a green oxygen mask, her black hair and all the blood making a crude contrast among all that whiteness. She had needles inserted in both her arms, connected to transparent, thin hoses, and a whole lot of bottles emptying rapidly into them.

“What the hell happened?” Dr. Sabourin asked Kermit.

“She— said a placenta teared”, Kermit supplied, not really knowing what that meant. Frankie stopped what he was doing and raised his head to fully look at Kermit, his face so white the freckles had disappeared.

“WHAT?” he barked.

“That— she said so— I don’t—” Kermit stammered. “She said she felt something rip open”.

“FUCK!” yelled Frankie, punching at the wall: Kermit jolted, “fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_ Why didn’t you bring her in immediately? Where the fuck did she give birth? _HOW_ the fuck did she give birth?” Frankie sounded close to tears and Kermit swallowed hard, not finding for the life of him something to say that wouldn’t make things worse.

“Oswald!” Frankie yelled then, “I want everything ready in five minutes tops! Marie, get me that blood _now_. Jenny, go to OB/GYN and check who the fuck is on call, and tell whoever it is to go to the fucking OR and get everything prepped, tell them that we’re bringing Sarah in… tell them everything, that she’s in hypovolemic shock due to placental abruption, fortuitous preterm delivery and probable uterine rupture. Oh, and someone go to the NICU and tell the neonatologists, they will want to know. Go, _NOW!_ Orderly, get the FUCK in here, now! Oh, this is such a fucking disaster!” he almost sobbed as he took of his bloodied gloves and tossed them away angrily. Kermit had never heard a doctor swear so much, Sarah excluded, of course. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow the knot in his throat.

Dr. Sabourin was wiping the blood off of Sarah’s body and suddenly she straightened up and asked coldly:

“Who beat up this woman?”

Kermit tensed in anticipation. And there it was, things getting FUBAR, as Jim would have said.

“Detective Griffin, I am going to ask you one more time: _who_ beat her up?”

“It wasn’t me if that’s what you’re implying”, Kermit answered, his temper getting the worst of him.

“I am implying nothing”, doctor Sabourin said coolly, “I am just telling you I will have to report this”.

“Go right ahead”, Kermit shrugged.

 

The orderlies walked in just then and wheeled Sarah out of the cubicle and into the OR. Kermit wanted more than life itself to hold her one more time, but he was sure the doctors wouldn’t allow it, so he followed the stretcher’s progress in silence.  Dr. Sabourin clucked in disapproval and turned on her heels to leave the cubicle.

“You know where to find me, Dr. Paulson. I’ll be… filling out the form”.

“Yes, boss”, Frankie said gloomily, barely able to hold his superior’s gaze. “What happened, Kermit?” he said once Dr. Sabourin left.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you”.

“Try me”, Frankie said, “Kermit, you’re a Police Detective, you know it doesn’t look good for you. Sarah could very well die and—”

Kermit grabbed him rudely by the arm.

“ _DON’T_ — say that!” he barked.

“Let go of my arm, man”, Frankie said calmly and Kermit obliged slowly, “Look, I am just saying it how it is. What happened to her is pretty much the worst thing that can happen to a pregnant woman. It’s a downright fucking _tragedy,_ buddy, I can’t say it more plainly”, Frankie rubbed at his eyes tiredly, and went on, “Look, let me walk you through it: placental abruption is risky for both the mother and the fetus. It is dangerous for the mother because of blood loss, loss of clotting ability, and oxygen deprivation to her organs, especially the kidneys and heart, and it is dangerous for the baby because of oxygen deprivation, too, since the mother's blood is the fetus' only source of oxygen. Following me so far?” he asked, and Kermit nodded marginally. Like Sarah, Frankie found solace in explaining things to people willing to listen, it seemed: “Because the tearing placenta is attached to the umbilical cord, and the umbilical cord is an extension of the fetus' circulatory system, the fetus is also at risk of hemorrhaging. The fetus may die from these stresses, or may be born with damage due to oxygen deprivation. If the abruption occurs well before the baby was due to be delivered, as it happened with Sarah, early delivery may cause the baby to suffer complications of premature birth. But the worst part is, not only did the freaking placenta tear, her _uterus_ did as well. That’s a fucking _catastrophe_ , Kermit. She will most likely develop peritonitis, and there is a high chance they won’t be able to repair the damage because her uterus is so enlarged because of the multiple pregnancy. She might need a hysterectomy. And that’s the least of her problems. Do you now see why I kind of lost it back there? And if this happened as a result of the beating… Well, guess who the prime suspect is”.

“It wasn’t me” Kermit repeated. “She was… kidnapped. We only managed to get her out of… where they had her… when all hell broke loose”.

“Kidnapped?” echoed Frankie dubiously. “You know that sounds extremely far-fetched don’t you”.

Kermit nodded.

“It’s the truth”.

Frankie sighed.

“Well, I guess it’s not my place to say if it is or isn’t”, he said, “but mark my words, Dr. Sabourin might have already filed the report, and once word gets out, you’ll be _persona non grata_ in this hospital, buddy”.

“Innocent until proven guilty, right?” Kermit said bitterly, “I don’t really care, as long as she is alright”.

“I’ll keep you posted”, Frankie promised, and touched his shoulder slightly to indicate they should leave the cubicle. They walked out in silence and Kermit flopped into a chair in the waiting room, next to where Paul, Jim and Caine were seated.

“What happened? What did they say?” asked Paul worriedly.

 

“It’s pretty bad” Kermit replied throatily. “They’ve taken her to surgery and… well… we’ll just have to wait and pray for the best”.

Paul wrapped an arm around his surrogate son’s shoulders. Jim turned to him and mumbled:

“She’ll be alright, Papa, she’s tough”.

Kermit exhaled through his nose and didn’t reply. She _was_ tough, but Kermit rather thought there was a limit to everything.

Peter walked in at that very moment, and Kermit looked up, surprised. He had forgotten about him.

“I just found a place to park”, Peter said. “It’s crowded around here. How’s Sarah?”

 

Kermit breathed in deeply and braced himself to speak, but Paul rescued him, succinctly informing Peter himself.

“They’ve taken her already?” Peter asked. “That was quick”.

Kermit glanced at the clock on the wall and he was astounded again when he learned it had only been ten minutes since their arrival. It had felt like a lot more. He leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. His head was throbbing and he felt queasy. He looked down at himself and noticed he was also drenched in blood. Paul and Jim had both lost their coats as they had used them to wrap the babies, and they too were bloodied and disheveled. They looked like the survivors of a terrorist attack.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands lifted Kermit by the collar of his ruined shirt and shook him violently in the air.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Denning screamed in his face. Kermit didn’t reply, but used his right hand to pinch Denning’s solar plexus, which made him howl and let go of the ex-mercenary.

“Leave me alone, Denning”, he said warningly, “I am _really_ not in the mood”.

“Does it look like I care, you asshole?” Denning was still shouting, looking on the verge of a heart attack, “If she dies, _I will kill you_ , do you hear me, Mr. Shakespeare?”

He lunged for Kermit again and shook him by the shoulders like a rag doll; Denning was at least six inches taller than Kermit and he had been an athletic man in his youth, but years of sitting behind a desk had taken its toll, and now he had a beer gut Streinlich would have been proud of; Kermit, on the other hand, while he didn’t look particularly muscular, had a lifetime of special training and honed skills on his side, so he crouched swiftly, pulled Denning by the tie, pinned him against the wall with a neck choke and spat in his face:

 _“Don’t_ threaten me again, Denning. I don’t take kindly to threats. Rest assured that if she dies, _I will be the one killing you_ , because you’re here playing hero instead of doing your job, and that’s a promise, not a threat”.

He applied a bit more strength to his neck-choke, making Denning turn blue in the face, and then he released him. Denning coughed and sputtered, and raised a menacing arm to Kermit:

“You’re going to pay for this, Griffin; I’ll make sure of that”.

Unbelievably, Kermit laughed.

“Bring it on”, he said through a dangerous grin, the one that had made his victims cower in fear before he executed them, “you had your chance with her and blew it, if you think your little antics will win her back you’re deluded”.

“GET THIS ASSHOLE OUT OF HERE!” Denning shrieked, going for Kermit again, even as he was forcibly restrained by two male nurses that were walking by: “Out, OUT! And if he comes back again, call the cops!”

“I _am_ the cops” said Kermit, still grinning.

“Yeah? Let’s see for how long!”

Peter stood up and put himself between Kermit and Denning.

“Kermit, shut up already”, he told his friend, “You’re making things worse”.

“I thought that was your father’s job!” Kermit spat angrily, and he strode away briskly towards the exit without looking back.

 

 

Paul found Kermit crouched near the Emergency ramp, smoking a cigarette and staring emptily into the distance.

“Want to talk, son?” Paul asked softly.

“Not really”, Kermit replied through a puff of smoke.

“I figured”, said Paul, sitting laboriously next to him and handing him a paper cup half full of tepid coffee, “here”, he added, “it tastes like dead dogs, but it’ll do”.

Kermit took it in silence and took a sip. He grimaced. It tasted like really dead dogs.

“They think I did this to her”, he said after a while.

“I figured”, Paul said again, “but, you didn’t, and sooner or later they’ll have no other choice but to accept it”.

“But I _did,_ Paul, don’t you see? I might have not beaten her to within an inch of her life, but I put her in the line of danger. Straker was getting back at me. _Not_ Atherton, Paul, it was _Straker_ and Gunnar all along”.

Paul nodded in silence.

“Straker is— _was_ insane”, he said.

Kermit snorted.

“No arguments there”. He took a puff out of his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“You’re going to have to kick the habit now”, Paul observed.

Kermit laughed humorlessly.

“I did”, he said gloomily. “This is the first cigarette I’ve had in seven months. Ever since we found out she was—” he sighed painfully, “God… I— I didn’t even look at them”.

“I did”, Paul said, “they’re gorgeous”.

Kermit gave a heartbreaking smile.

“They must take after her”, he said, and suddenly he broke into painful sobs, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. Paul wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly.

“I can’t go through this again, Paul, I can’t”, Kermit managed to choke out.

“You won’t”, Paul assured him, still hugging him strongly, “she’ll pull through”.

Kermit made a sound that was half a guffaw, half a sob.

“Did you miss the exchange back there? Doctors never say you’re dying unless you’ve already a foot on the grave”.

“She’s not dead yet”.

Kermit heaved again.

“I’ll kill Caine”, he growled.

“This wasn’t Caine’s doing”, Paul observed calmly.

“He could have told us about the stupid prophecy”, Kermit said mutinously. “We could have prepared, we could have—” he closed his eyes and rubbed at them wearily. “Fuck it all, I wish all this mystic crap would’ve stayed buried where it belonged”.

“Then you might have not met her”, Paul said. “You’re not seriously saying you would have rather not met her at all”.

Kermit shrugged moodily.

“It’s better to have loved and lost—” Paul began, but Kermit cut him off:

“DON’T SAY THAT!” he lashed out, his temper getting the worst of him as it often happened when he was overwhelmed by emotions he couldn’t handle. “I haven’t lost her… I can’t— _can’t_ lose her… Oh, gods above, _I can’t!”_ he was weeping again and Paul dabbed at his own eyes, overcome by the display of grief from a man who was deemed alexithymic by all and sundry. He hugged his surrogate son again and spoke softly.

“Kermit, you won’t lose her. She loves you more than anything in the world, you know it, I know it, we _all_ know it. She will fight with all her might to stay with you and the Muppets, don’t give up hope yet”.

Kermit sniffled.

“And you’ll accomplish nothing by killing Caine”, Paul continued, “Assuming he _can_ be killed… Only going to prison for a crime you did commit. This is no time to act stupid; you have a son and a daughter to take care of now”.

Kermit nodded marginally.

“I know. I just— I assumed— I assumed Sarah would be there to walk me through it”.

“She _will_ be there”, Paul said. “We will all be there if it comes to that…but it won’t come to that, son”.

Kermit turned to look at his surrogate father.

“Thank you”, he managed to say.

“Don’t mention it”, Paul said briskly. “And don’t think for a minute that I don’t feel overwhelmed by guilt, myself. But, as your beloved Shakespeare so rightly said, pain pays the income of each precious thing”.

Kermit snorted:

 _“You may my glories and my state depose, but not my griefs; still I am King of those”_ , he said.

“Indeed”, Paul said. “Now, we have to go back there and get Rykker and Katya, we left them in the middle of nowhere and it’s getting really cold outside”.

“Fine. But let’s make it quick, I want to be here when Sarah gets out of surgery”.

Paul nodded in assent.

“Also, we gotta make sure the evidence doesn’t get tampered with, don’t we? It’s what’ll clear you. Now, come on, help your old man up. Sitting in cold cement floors is really not advisable at my age”.

Kermit got to his feet and held his hand to Paul, who took it and stood up strenuously.

“That’ll be sore in the morning”, he said, “Do you know what this reminds me of?” he added, “Mike West’s harassment of Annie, do you remember?”

Kermit nodded. Mike West had been a teacher and mentor of Annie in college, and he had become obsessed with her to the point of stalking her.  Even Caine had been involved in one episode, saving Annie from a mock-up fire that West had set up in the Blaisdell home to force her to go to him.

“I mean”, Paul continued, “West was also Annie’s teacher and twenty years her senior, and he was totally obsessed with her to the point he had her beaten to within an inch of her life; but at least he had the excuse of a baseball-sized brain tumor… What does that asshole doctor have to say for himself?”

Kermit snorted.

“Nothing, he’s just that, an asshole”, he said. “Whose jurisdiction is it up in the woods, do you reckon?” he asked Paul wonderingly.

“59th, if memory serves”.

“Karen’s precinct?” said Kermit.

Paul imitated him flippantly:

“Oh, yeah!”

 

 

Paul and Kermit returned to the hospital with time to spare. Sarah was still in surgery, and Peter and Jim had offered to take turns guarding the compound until the 59th showed up to take possession of the crime scene. Kermit had taken Straker’s computer with him, thinking he’d make better use of it than the local authorities, and then he had talked Paul into going home to rest, promising to keep him posted on any developments regarding Sarah or the Muppets; so Katya had driven Paul home and Rykker to the Regency Hotel, and was now dozing in her rental car, outside the hospital, with Straker’s computer in the trunk, while Kermit sat in the waiting room, dressed in a wrinkled lime green scrub that Frankie had procured for him after the CSIs from the 59th swung by and divested him of his clothing claiming it was evidence.

Restlessly, Kermit stood up and paced back and forth the length of the waiting room, earning a couple of mystified looks from other patrons also waiting for updates on their own patients. Kermit walked towards a coffee vending machine and got himself a cup that tasted like sugared warm water with only the slightest hint of coffee to justify the name. Kermit drank it absent-mindedly, still pacing. After what it seemed like hours, Frankie poked his bright red head through a door on the far end of the waiting room and gestured to Kermit, indicating he should approach. Kermit felt his stomach do a somersault and dragged himself to the door. Frankie stood aside so that Kermit could walk through.

“She’s out of surgery”, Frankie said somberly after he closed the door behind them, “she was… transferred to the ICU”.

Kermit looked at him as if Frankie had spoken another language, one he didn’t understand.

“What—”

“What does that mean?” Frankie supplied, tiredly, “it means she’s alive, but barely, Kermit”.

Kermit sat down before he passed out. He put his head in his hands, forcing himself not to hyperventilate.

“The surgeons told me they had to perform a peritoneal lavage, there was blood everywhere”, Frankie went on, “they took out the remaining pieces of the placenta that teared and had to do a thorough scouring of her womb; her uterus was indeed ruptured, and they managed to repair it as opposed of performing a hysterectomy. Of course, she’ll have to wait at least four years before even thinking of getting pregnant again, but—”

“I don’t think she’ll be too keen on going through a pregnancy again. This one was awful on her”, Kermit said quietly.

Frankie nodded. He remembered.

“She was pretty much exsanguinated when she got to the OR, not the ideal setting for major surgery, but there was no other way around it. Like I told you before, this leads to loss of clotting ability, and in the worst of cases, to an entity called disseminated intravascular coagulation, which is awful, has a terrible prognosis and I pray to God Sarah won’t develop it, because she won’t resist it. They’ve started massive transfusions, both of packed red cells and other blood derivatives. She’s also on antibiotics and pain killers, and she’s being closely monitored, a thing better done at the ICU, which is why the surgeons transferred her as soon as the surgery ended. So far, there is no sign of kidney or brain damage, which is pretty much the best news I can give you. She’s been intubated, it was necessary for the anesthesia, and the guys at the ICU are hoping they’ll be able to extubate her in the course of the next few days. But this is only the beginning, Kermit”, Frankie finished, not quite meeting Kermit’s eyes.

Kermit ogled at the redheaded doctor, trying not to dwell on his gloomy face.

“How good are her chances?” he forced himself to ask.

“Right now, I’d say 30%”, Frankie said, and Kermit almost fainted, “of course, that can and will change in the next couple of days. Medicine is unpredictable”.

Kermit closed his eyes.

“I know”, he said, “And what about the babies? Have they told you anything?”

“They’re doing way better than she is”, Frankie said with a light smile, “the NICU nurses told me they have quite a temper… especially the baby girl”.

Kermit smiled as well. It was heartbreaking to watch.

“I don’t suppose I could see them, could I?”

“The pediatricians have a restricted visiting policy regarding the NICU”, Frankie said ruefully.

“And… What about Sarah? Could I see her?”

Frankie sighed heavily.

“Look, man”, he began solemnly, “Thanks to Denning, everyone around here believes you beat Sarah into delivering those babies, and there is _nothing_ doctors despise more than wife beaters. Well, child molesters probably take the first prize, but—” Frankie shut his mouth in mid-sentence, noticing he was beginning to ramble, “anyway, what I mean to say is that Sarah is extremely well loved around here, and you’ll understand of course, the white coats are closing ranks around her. You know how it is, you’re a cop, we’re brotherhoods, and we stick together through thick and thin for the most part”.

Kermit bit his lip, in a perfect mirror of Sarah’s own nervous gesture, which didn’t go unnoticed by Frankie.

“But”, the redheaded doctor held up a finger, “I’ve seen you guys together, I was at your wedding, for crying out loud. I _know_ you’d slice your own neck before hurting a hair from Sarah’s head… But it doesn’t matter what I believe. If they catch me sneaking you into the ICU, they’ll have both our heads”.

“It matters to me”, Kermit said, “and I am sure it matters to Sarah. Thank you, Frankie”.

“I am going to get you in anyway”, Frankie said boldly, “but promise you’ll leave when I say so. I don’t want to make matters worse than they already are”.

Kermit nodded.

“Follow me, then”.

Frankie led the way through brightly lit hallways until they stopped in front of two swing glass doors that read “INTENSIVE CARE UNIT” with angry red capital letters. Frankie pushed one of the doors ajar and slid inside, closely followed by Kermit. They stopped again next to a row of pristine steel sinks, and Frankie had Kermit scrub his hands thoroughly all the way to his elbows, while he did the same in the next sink. Keeping his hands in the air, Frankie opened a couple of packages stored next to the sinks and extracted a towel, with which he dried his hands and arms. He opened another package for Kermit and motioned him to take the towel himself. Kermit looked at him in mute inquiry.

“It’s sterile”, Frankie informed him, “Only you can touch it”.

“Oh”.

Kermit dried his arms thoroughly and followed Frankie into yet another stall, where they donned surgical coats, boots, caps and mouth coverers, to finally walk backwards with their hands in the air, not touching the handles, through another swing door, where the actual NICU was.

“You do this every time you’re here?” asked Kermit.

“Yes, and you’ll do it, too”, Frankie said sternly. “We try to keep it as sterile as humanly possible, for the patients’ sake. Come on”.

Frankie walked through the cubicles, until he reached the one in the far left end. Kermit’s eyes widened in horror at the sight before him, and it took every ounce of courage he possessed to remain conscious as he walked to the side of the bed where his wife lay. She was connected to assorted tubes, monitors, plugs, machines and hoses, and there were at least five bottles of assorted liquids, and a bag of blood hanging from a tripod and dripping slowly into a couple of thin hoses stuck in both her arms, and yet another one that seemed to end directly under her collarbone. She was still paler than Death itself, and the dark smudges under her eyes made her look like a battered panda. Every welt and bruise stood out dramatically under the bright fluorescent light.  She had a tube down her throat, fixed to each side of her mouth with straps of Micropore adhesive tape, and her chest rose and fell in tandem with a machine that hissed 17 times per minute.  Someone had braided her hair out of the way, and cleaned the blood from her face, Kermit noted; and he also observed that there still remained a noticeable swelling in her midriff, and he told himself that it was only logical; no one could really expect a womb to retract back to its original size so soon after delivery.

Kermit forced himself to keep approaching the bed until he was close enough to sit on a stool and take her hand. On closer inspection, he noticed she had bruises on her arms as well.

“She’s having clotting issues”, Frankie reminded him, while peering at one of the monitors, “funny, her heart rate went down a notch”.

Kermit looked up, alarmed.

“Is that bad?” he asked.

“No, on the contrary, it’s really good. From what the nurses told me, they have had a hard time stabilizing her vitals. Keep holding her hand, and talk to her. I am sure on some level she can hear you. I’ll be on the look-out and I’ll come back to get you in fifteen minutes”.

Frankie walked away swiftly and Kermit looked at his wife with tears in his eyes.

“Sweetcakes, wake up”, he said heartbreakingly, “please, wake up… I need you… the Muppets need their Mama”, tears were spilling from his eyes and pooling into the mouth-coverer, “you promised I wouldn’t lose you, Sweetcakes… please don’t give up…” Kermit risked another glance at her unmoving face and gave a gasping sob: _“Death lies on her like an untimely frost, upon the sweetest flower of all the field…”_ he murmured raggedly and suddenly he started, because he distinctly felt a light squeeze in his own hand. “Sweetcakes?” he said, “can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand again”.

Nothing happened this time. Maybe he’d imagined after all… but somehow, he didn’t think so.

“You thought that quote was too morbid, didn’t you?” he said, and yes! There it was again, soft and almost imperceptible, but definitely there, “I’m sorry, I have a penchant for the dramatic, you know me”, he felt it again, almost as if Sarah was saying: “no shit, Sherlock”, with the caustic tone she reserved for Jillian. Kermit smiled behind the mouth-coverer just as Frankie walked back in.

“Frankie, she hears me, she squeezed my hand!” Kermit informed him excitedly.

Frankie looked at him and tilted his head, but didn’t say anything, not having the heart to rob Kermit of that tiny ray of hope by telling him it was most likely just a reflex.

“It’s time to go, Kermit”, he said instead, “I’ll try to sneak you back in tomorrow. Don’t tell anyone, please. Not even your Father confessor”.

“I’ll be back, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said, “You just hang in there. I love you. Look, Frankie, did you see that?” he exclaimed, and Frankie nodded in assent, his eyes wide, because he _had_ seen it. Sarah had most definitely squeezed Kermit’s hand.

Maybe there was hope, after all.


	28. Chapter 28

“Kermit is being accused of aggravated battery?” Jody said incredulously, downing the remains of her beer.

“And if she dies, it’ll escalate to first-degree murder”, Skalany said gloomily.

“If she _dies?”_ Jody exclaimed, “what the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know for sure, all I heard is that Sarah was brought to the ER beaten to a pulp and bleeding all over the place… I don’t— oh, here comes Peter. Hey, partner, get over here!” Skalany waved at him. Peter made his way through the crowd in Delancey’s Bar towards their table. Skalany pounced on him immediately when he reached them:

“You know what happened!” she said, “Tell us!”

“Yes, Detective Caine”, said Captain Simms behind them, “do tell”.

“Captain!” exclaimed Peter, going red in the face, “is this official, or—?”

“You don’t really think I’d throw Kermit to the wolves, do you, Detective?” asked Karen dryly.

Peter blinked, taken aback.

“No… of course not, Captain”, he mumbled.

“So… what _did_ happen?” insisted Karen.

“It’s— a long story”.

“I am not going anywhere”, Karen declared promptly, and sat in the remaining seat; “Charlie, a light beer, please”, she added, to prove everything Peter said would be off-record.

Peter nodded and ordered himself a beer as well, launching into a detailed tale of what had transpired in the woods two days prior. Skalany and Jody lived up to their role as horrified audience, gasping and exclaiming in all the appropriate places.

“Oh, God…” Jody murmured when Peter was done, “poor Kermit… is it very bad?”

“Well, she’s still in the ICU, and so are the babies”, Peter said, “she went through surgery and she’s had like three gallons of blood transfused already— Actually, we’re a little short on blood donors, so if you could swing by the blood bank and donate a bag, we’d be forever grateful… I know you’re not allowed to, Skalany, but maybe you could ask your brother?” Skalany nodded and Peter went on: “Anyway, she’s still out of it, with a tube down her throat and last I heard, she was having some clotting issues… _And_ , they won’t let Kermit see her… or the babies”.

“WHAT?” growled Skalany, thoroughly enraged on Kermit’s behalf, “Why ever not?”

“Well, apparently no one is allowed in the NICU for the babies’ protection, mainly”, Peter said.

“How are they?” asked Skalany.

“Well, they’re doing fine, all things considered. The baby girl developed a mild jaundice, Dr. Frankie told us, but nothing to be worried about. And the baby boy has some sort of bronchial spasm, but on the whole they’re doing quite alright considering they’re preemies and they were born in the middle of the freaking woods”.

“Aw, a boy and a girl!” exclaimed Jody, awed despite herself, “have they named them, yet?”

“Well, naming them is not high in Kermit’s list of priorities, to tell you the truth. He says he can’t choose names without Sarah, because she’s vetoed every name he’s suggested so far: Shakespearean names, mostly, you know he has a thing for Shakespeare; but, he said, if all else fails, they can just keep their nicknames and be done with it”.

Skalany and Jody laughed at that.

“What are their nicknames?” asked Karen curiously.

“Fozzie and Gonzo”, said Peter and chuckled. Karen mirrored his smile.

“Of course” she said, “fitting, too. And why won’t they let him see Sarah? I know for a fact the ICU _does_ have short visiting hours”.

“That’s right”, Peter sighed, “But, apparently, the Dean of Medicine of County General is Sarah’s ex, and well… he’s handling this like a spoiled brat. He actually threatened to kill Kermit in front of all of the ER waiting room when we first got there”.

“He did, did he?” said Captain Simms thoughtfully.

“He was beside himself” Peter agreed. “He’s actually the one convinced that Kermit did this. And of course, Kermit threatened him right back. And I, for one, find it more plausible that Kermit ends up killing the asshole than the other way around.”

Skalany hissed angrily.

“Asswipe”, she growled, meaning Denning, and downed her beer: “how’s the Captain taking it?”

“Well, he’s laden with guilt, but he’s saving his meltdown for later”, Peter said dryly, “right now, he’s keeping it together for Kermit’s sake. The man came apart at the seams; I’ve never seen him like that before, not even when Paul was almost killed by the Shadow Assassin, it was awful”.

“Well, what did you expect?” Jody asked, a little too aggressively.

Peter nodded, but said nothing.

“And how did Sarah’s parents react?” Skalany asked then.

“They’re none the wiser so far” Peter said, “they returned to Switzerland shortly after the wedding, and let’s just say we’ve neglected to inform them; Kermit is in no fit state and we… Well, it’s not really our place, see?”

“You’d better keep it that way”, Skalany advised, “or Jillian will have a field day. The last thing Kermit needs is that shrew harping at him as well, the woman is nasty!”

Jody nodded fervently in agreement.

“They got married?” said Captain Simms, almost to herself. Peter eyed her with a hint of pity in his eyes.

“Yeah, they did… a little over a month ago. Pop married them”.

“I see”, Karen said softly.

They fell into an awkward silence, Karen asking herself the thousand-year-old question: _What if…?_

“But… but this should go down easily, shouldn’t it, Captain?” Jody asked then, snapping Karen out of her musings, “I mean, the evidence must still be… well, wherever that place is, and you’ve got a bunch of witnesses who’d vouch for Kermit, right?”

Captain Simms swallowed her beer primly and considered how to answer.

“It should be easy”, she agreed at last, _“If_ all the aforementioned circumstances are met”.

“Meaning…?”

“I mean nothing, yet”, Karen said, “I am merely suggesting we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves”.

The small group of cops fell into a gloomy silence.

“How’s Kermit, Peter? I mean, how is he _really?”_ asked Captain Simms after a while.

“Well… you know Kermit. He lashes out when he’s worried or in pain. And right now he’s both. And after that first meltdown…. he’s lashing at Pop, mostly”.

“How come?”

“Well…” Peter looked at Jody and Skalany as if searching for support: “you guys remember what Sarah did at that restaurant, don’t you? When you got injured, Captain?”

Skalany and Jody nodded, and Captain Simms looked at each one in turn, confused.

“What? What did she do?”

“Well, um— she sort of deflected the bullets away from us”, Jody said in a hushed voice.

“By magic”, added Skalany.

Karen tried very hard not to laugh, but failed, a wary, unamused bark finding its way out of her throat.

“Come on, Detectives!” she exclaimed.

“No, really, Captain!” Skalany said, “There is no other explanation. All the bullets from that guy ricocheted in mid-air, and that British girl knew what was up, too, because she slapped our guns out of our hands, didn’t she, Jody?”

Jody nodded.

“It was as if she knew what’d happen if we fired our weapons while standing next to Sarah. Only she…. didn’t reach you in time. And that’s when… Sarah did the other thing”.

“What other thing?”

“Well… she acted as the first responder when you collapsed. She performed CPR on you until the EMTs arrived, and then you flat-lined and she put a tube down your throat and shocked you with the paddle things—”

“Defibrillator”, Skalany supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, that… she got you back and then she— she— well, she cut a hole in between your ribs and put a tube inside your chest to— I don’t know what for, honestly, but the EMTs didn’t say boo, just did what she said no questions asked. It was… _something_ all right. And then she keeled over and had to be taken to the hospital as well”.            |

Captain Simms looked at her former officers in shock.

“I… I didn’t know that”, she murmured.

“It was gruesome”, Skalany said, “but she didn’t hesitate one bit and well… that gave you quite a fighting chance, from what they told us later”.

“She saved my life”, Karen observed hoarsely.

“More than once”, Skalany agreed. “She pulled you out of the way of the first bullet you shot; if she hadn’t, it would’ve gotten you straight in the head”.

Captain Simms frowned, trying to remember exactly what had happened. The events of that evening were still a little fuzzy. She closed her eyelids and in her mind’s eye she saw the guy with the machine gun firing the weapon aimlessly… she fired her own without thinking and she felt herself being yanked out of the way by a hand… and then everything dissolved into a swirl of pain. And it had happened _after_ she’d pulled the trigger. And there was something else… something that had happened _before_ all that.

“She sent them hurling away, didn’t she” she said softly, “all four of them. And their weapons flew from their hands. I remember... and she only moved her arms… but she didn’t touch them”.

“That’s right”, Skalany nodded emphatically, “just like Caine does sometimes”.

“Actually, it was Pop who taught her how to channel it that way”, Peter quipped in, “and that’s where I was going with all this. The thing is, Sarah didn’t always have those powers— or rather, she did, but they were dormant. There was this… prophecy, you see? And as soon as she met Kermit, things set into motion so that the prophecy would be fulfilled; and when she got pregnant… that unleashed those powers, that were meant to vanquish an ancient evil, according to Pop”.

Jody, Skalany and Captain Simms were all hanging onto Peter’s every word, their beers long forgotten.

“But, Pop— well, you know him”, Peter continued, “he neglected to tell Kermit and Sarah that the vanquishing of said evil would mean the premature birth of their children and Sarah nearly dying, so Kermit is naturally beside himself with fury. Seeing your wife giving birth while saving the world gotta have that effect on people”.

“She faced him _— it—_ whatever it was… while _giving birth?”_ Karen exclaimed horrified, putting her hand to her midsection without thinking; after all, she also knew the pain of delivery all too well.

“Yes… it was written that was the way it should happen… and Kermit still howls with rage when he thinks of it”.

“Well, I’ll say!” Jody cried out.

“I am not justifying Pop on this one”, Peter said ruefully, “heck, even Lo Si got pissed at him! He went too far this time, and it kind of blew up in all our faces”.

The female cops nodded gravelly.

“And— did it— did it work, at least?” Karen questioned timidly.

“Well, she defeated the Shadow, that’s for sure” Peter said, “she turned one of them into a pile of ashes and melted the other one in a flash of blinding light”, his audience gasped in horror, “However, the human that associated with them in the first place is still at large. But no matter, that’s a foe we _can_ beat without Sarah’s help. And he’s lost the vast majority of his punch, that I can tell you”.

“Did the prophecy say whether Sarah would survive this?” Jody asked.

Peter shook his head sadly.

“No” he answered, “it didn’t. But then again, she is supposed to be a warrior, you know, like in the literal and metaphorical sense of the word. I am hoping that’ll give her the upper hand”.

“I sincerely hope that’s the case”, said Karen, still a little ruffled by Peter’s narrative, “I’d hate to see Kermit suffer more than he already has”.

“You don’t know the half of it, Cap”, said Peter, “only recently did I find out that Kermit’s second wife was killed while she was pregnant”, Karen looked horrified at those words; “the poor guy must be having one heck of a _déjà vu_ right now, and not the pleasant kind”.

“This sucks balls”, Jody said without thinking, and then she jolted, “Fuck, sorry, Captain! I mean—”

“Don’t apologize, Jody, we’re off the clock and off record. And indeed, it sucks balls”, Simms agreed; “I am still having trouble trying to wrap my mind around all this… I cannot even imagine what Kermit is going through”.

“It’s tearing him asunder”, Peter said succinctly, “he’s never let anyone get as close to him as Sarah has. Way before they dated, when they first met, Pop told Kermit that their Chis were entwined, and you can damn well believe it; it’s like they’re one indissoluble being, they feel what the other feels, they read each other’s thoughts… He _knows_ what she’s going through, he feels it as if it was him suffering it, and the knowledge that he can’t do anything about it is driving him crazy”.

“How awful”, Karen whispered.

“Can I get you anything else, folks?” asked Charlie, making them all jump.

“No… thank you”, said Captain Simms, “Actually, I had better go. Kermit is due for questioning tomorrow”, she added distastefully, “I hated the idea before and now I abhor it, but there is no way around it”.

The other cops nodded. They understood.

Captain Simms got off her chair, left a couple of bills under her half-finished glass of beer and walked out the door stiffly.

 

~*~

 

Kermit had been held captive as a teenager in Vietnam; he had endured countless days of constant torture without betraying his secrets to his torturers, and he had managed to recover his eyesight afterwards and become a functional —if not all that well adjusted—, member of society, so he found the interrogation room at 59th precinct rather dull, and the proceedures extremely boring.

The Detective in charge of questioning him was blatantly afraid of Kermit, and he stammered out his inquiries while sweating profusely. Amused, Kermit thought he was one step away from needing IV fluids.

Oh, but that made him think of Sarah, and thinking about her hurt.

“Det—Mr—Um—Sir?” stuttered the twitchy little cop. Kermit blinked and snapped back to reality.

“What”, he said flatly.

“I— I asked you whether—”

The door to Kermit’s side banged open. Twitchy McTwitcherson jumped in his seat as Captain Simms slid in regally, albeit with a hint of difficulty in her gait.

“What is this?” asked Captain Simms, “are you questioning him without his attorney present?”

“H—he ref—refused one, Ma’am!”, piped Twitchy McTwitcherson.

“Never mind that now, Williams. I told you quite plainly _I_ would be handling _Detective_ Griffin’s questioning”, she said, stressing Kermit’s rank.

“S—sorry, Ma’am”, said Twitchy McTwitcherson. The surname Williams didn’t suit him at all, Kermit thought, as he watched Twitchy scurrying away… gratefully, it seemed.

“Karen”, Kermit said without inflection then.

“Kermit”, she replied, a tad more warmly, “how are you holding up?”

Kermit shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s not me I care about”.

“But _I do”_ , Karen said sternly, walking closer to him, as the silence swelled between them.

“I feel like I’m dying”, Kermit said at last, in a hoarse voice, “I’ve endured most than many… but this… I can’t bear”. He buried his head in his hands and mumbled: _“Is there no pity sitting in the clouds that sees into the bottom of my grief? Weep I cannot; but my heart bleeds”._

Karen felt her eyes well up with tears.

“ _The course of love never did run smooth”_ , she said softly, squeezing Kermit’s shoulder in reassurance. Under the circumstances, she wasn’t sure anything else would be deemed appropriate.  She heard him sigh behind his hands, but he didn’t look up.

“This is my first week back to work after she saved my life”, she continued in a soothing voice. “Of course, I didn’t expect _this_ to fall into my lap, but I intend to clear your name beyond question, for your sake and hers. Is that understood, Detective?”

Kermit nodded slightly.

“Sir, yes, sir”, he whispered, still with his head in his hands.

Karen smiled.

“Now”, she added briskly, “Is it true that you renounced your right to an attorney?”

Kermit nodded in assent. Karen sighed. The man was stubborn as a mule.

“Well, then”, she said, “I will need a full account of what transpired on the night of October 31st, please”.

Kermit looked up from his hands, and blinked. It was the first time he registered consciously the fact that Fozzie and Gonzo had been born on Halloween, and he emitted a feverish string of guffaws.

“What’s wrong?” asked Karen, a bit concerned.

“I— just— nothing… I thought Sarah will find hilarious that the Muppets were born on Halloween, that’s all”, and his expression shifted to misery again, as the thought struck that she might never find out, that he might never hear her laugh about it. Karen smiled a little sadly, oddly endeared by the nickname he’d given his children, and mostly crushed at the look on his face.

“Kermit?” she insisted gently, “What happened that night?”

The door burst open again with a loud crash before Kermit could answer.

“ _Don’t_ answer that, son”, boomed a thunderous voice, clearly accustomed to be obeyed without question, which was what Kermit did. He looked up again and blinked repeatedly, as if to will an hallucination away; standing at the threshold was a very tall, broad-chested, rubicund man, with a furious buzzcut, full military regalia and the most fierce pair of yellow eyes Kermit had ever seen, including the unusual shade that Sarah’s had taken… once. Kermit gaped at the man, unable to find his voice.

“Excuse me—” intervened Karen, as stunned as Kermit was, “who might you be, please?”

“General James Albion Hellstrom, Judge Advocates General of the Air Force, at your beckon, Madam”, General Hellstrom thundered, “and Mr. Griffin’s attorney”.

Kermit’s mouth hung open: _damn the kid!_ He thought admiringly.

“Well! Yes, that— of course! Nice to meet you, General. I am Captain Karen Simms”, said Karen, completely flustered, “have a seat, won’t you? Would you like a glass of—”

General Hellstrom raised a hand to halt her.

“No, thank you, Ma’am”, he rumbled, as he strode towards the chair next to Kermit’s, and sat down rigidly, eyeing the room as if expecting snipers to burst out through the walls. Kermit and Karen looked at each other with almost identical dumbfounded expressions.

“Now!” General Hellstrom barked, making them jump, “how much did you tell her before I got here, son?”

“Nothing, we’d only just begun”, Kermit replied, gathering his wits about him.

“Good. Jimmy did say you were smart”.

Captain Simms looked as if she wanted to ask who Jimmy was, but she didn’t dare.

“Go ahead, Cap’n”, General Hellstrom said, “you may proceed now”.

Karen cleared her throat.

“Yes, of course. Detective Griffin, can you state for the record what did happen on the night of October the 31st?”

Kermit sighed deeply, looked at General Hellstrom fractionally, and when he made a gesture indicating he should go on, he began:

“Caine came to my home around 9 PM to inform me my wife was missing”.

“Had you not noticed that yourself?”

“She was at work”, Kermit, “at County General Hospital, she’s an ER physician. She usually works the morning shift, but that day in particular she’d changed shifts with another colleague because said colleague needed to be somewhere else. She— Sarah, that is, was supposed to be home by eight, and I had noticed she was an hour late, which was unusual for her”.

“I see”, Karen said, jotting down something in a pad, “what were you doing at the time?”

“I was in my study along with Gerald Rykker, Peter Caine, Paul Blaisdell and James Hellstrom, discussing— stuff”, he finished lamely, when General Hellstrom raised his hand to shush him. Considering some of the “stuff” they’d been discussing concerned the General, it was only to be expected, Kermit thought.

“How is this relevant for your case, Ma’am?” General Hellstrom boomed.

“It establishes a timeline and, of course, and alliby for Mr. Griffin”, Karen said.

“I see. Well, he was at his home, having drinks with some friends, will that suffice?”

“Certainly, Sir”, Karen said pleasantly.

“I like you, Ma’am”, General Hellstrom said, “you’re smart”.

“Thank you, Sir, I do my best”, Karen replied. “How did Caine know that your wife was missing, Detective Griffin?”

“The same way Caine knows everything that goes on around him, I guess”, Kermit said.

“Care to venture a theory?”

“You’re asking my client to speculate, Ma’am”, bellowed General Hellstrom warningly.

“We’re not on trial yet, General” Karen replied swiftly, “I’m trying to keep that from happening”.

 _“Touché!”_ said General Hellstrom, thoroughly amused, “She’s smart, didn’t I say so?”

Karen smiled almost unwillingly, and Kermit snorted, suddenly understanding who had taught Jim the fine art of the southern charm.

“I don’t know how Caine knew”, Kermit said, “but Katya Steadman arrived a few minutes later and confirmed that Sarah was missing”.

“Who is Katya Steadman?” asked Captain Simms.

“She’s— a free-lance operative for MI-6”, Kermit said, thinking it was a very bleak way to describe a cold-blooded mercenary like Katya. Kalashnikov Tinkerbell suited her better, on the whole. He swallowed a snort.

Karen nodded.

“I see. And what is she doing here?”

“She travelled to Sloanville at Gerald Rykker’s request, to act as Sarah’s bodyguard”.

Both General Hellstrom and Karen looked at Kermit then.

“Why did your wife require a bodyguard, Detective Griffin?” asked Captain Simms.

“Because we have been targeted by a group of mercenaries since the beginning of this year”.

“Did you report this to the local authorities?” Karen said, already knowing the answer; and sure enough, both Kermit and General Hellstrom gifted her with matching withering looks.

“No, I didn’t”, Kermit said, “I wouldn’t have done any good. Although…” he continued thoughtfully, _“Sarah_ did, before we told her what was going on”.

“Explain yourself, Detective, please”.

“Back in January, Sarah was attacked by three men in the hospital’s parking lot. Caine went to her aid, and… Captain Blaisdell and I went over to Caine’s loft to question her on the events. I didn’t know her back then, that was… the first time we met”, he said quietly, “she said she was sure she could ID her attackers so she went by the 101st the next day, she filed a claim and we worked on a computer-generated portrait of her assailants. I printed them myself and put APBs on the three of them”, Kermit finished in a hushed voice, seeing a silver lining for the first time.

“Did you find them?” Karen asked urgently. Apparently, she too had realized what that meant.

“We got an ID on one of them”, Kermit said, “his name is Isaac Justin. We got a lead on his whereabouts later on, and Detective Caine and myself went to check it out, but the guy had vanished. The other two didn’t show up in any database, as far as I remember, but I didn’t take down the APBs”.

“Well, I will seize those files first thing in the morning”, Karen said, jotting it down so she wouldn’t forget; “now, let’s go back to October 31st. What happened after Miss Steadman arrived?”

“We— that is to say, Captain Blaisdell, Detective Caine, Major Hellstrom, Mr. Rykker, Caine, Katya and myself—, went to search for Sarah”.

“How did you know where to find her?”

“We didn’t”, Kermit replied, “or rather, _I_ didn’t. I knew one of the mercenaries after us was in Sloanville, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Still, Caine managed to find the place. Don’t ask me how he did it, I’d be speculating again”.

General Hellstrom chuckled.

“All right then. So you found the place”.

“Yes. Way up north, in the middle of the woods. It was a subterranean compound. It must have taken him the best part of the year to build it”.

“Him?”

“Straker, the…. mercenary who kidnapped Sarah”.

General Hellstrom inhaled sharply and looked at Kermit knowingly. Kermit nodded almost imperceptively.

“What’s his full name?” Karen asked.

“Jack Straker”.

“I see. Go on, Detective”.

“Well… we split up in two groups and broke into the compound to find Sarah. The group I led found her first, in what can only be described as a torture chamber”, Kermit shuddered at the memory.

“Do continue, Detective”.

“She was… tied to the ceiling by one arm, and anchored to the floor by two shackles. One of her arms had broken free… I don’t know how… And Straker was beside her. I told him to step away from her and he escaped through a trap door. I went to release my wife. She was—” Kermit swallowed hard, “she was badly beaten, she was bleeding through her nose and mouth, she had bruises all over her face and—” he stopped himself, breathing heavily.

Karen held up a hand.

“That’ll do, Detective”, she said.

“She… she then told us she was in labor and we hurried out of there to take her to the nearest hospital, but we were cut off by Straker and his men half-way through the woods”, Kermit went on, going silent again, because that was when things crossed to the realms of the supernatural and he wasn’t sure going down that road would do a lot of good.

“We… fought our way out of there”, Kermit said at last. “I am told you went to the compound personally and saw the bodies. Most of them fled, but we took down quite a few. We— we were getting ready to get out of there when— when—” he took a deep breath, “when all hell broke loose. Sarah screamed in pain, she said a placenta had teared —she’s a doctor, she should know—,  and Caine said we didn’t had time to get her to a hospital. He delivered the babies right there, but Sarah was bleeding like a goddamned fountain, so we rushed to County General and— well, that was it”.

Karen sighed, knowing that Kermit had left out quite a chunk of information, and not really caring.

“Very well, Detective”, she said, “The people you mentioned earlier, are they willing to testify the truth of what you just said?”

“I think they are”, Kermit said.

“That’s all I need to know”, Karen declared, “I thank you for your cooperation, Detective”. She capped her pen and closed her pad, and added: “off the record, it is my firm belief that the accusations brought against you are the worst kind of tripe I’ve ever seen in my life”.

“Hear, hear!” roared General Hellstrom genially, “I would also like to say, off record, of course, that this man here single-handedly saved my career, more than forty years in the Force would have gone down the drain if it wasn’t for him, so I owe him a great debt; but, that notwhitstanding, the accusations against him are nothing short of disgraceful”.

Karen stared, wondering just what Kermit had done to save the General’s career.

“Thank you both”, Kermit said, before Karen asked what the General meant. “It means a lot”.

“Have a good night, Detective Griffin”, said Karen warmly, “and you too, General Hellstrom”.

“Please! _Do_ call me Albion”, General Hellstrom boomed, and Kermit looked at him in disbelief; the goddamned geezer was _flirting_ with her! And, of course, as if on cue, _Albion_ added: “you _must_ let me take you out for a drink, Captain Simms, once this mess is sorted out”.

“Well, Albion, I am flattered”, Karen said with a girlish giggle, and Kermit’s mouth hung open.

Surely things couldn’t get more bizarre…

Could they?


	29. Chapter 29

 

As it turned out, things _could_ get even more bizarre… and of course, they did.

The investigation progressed as the days passed, and Karen was as true as her word when she said she intended to clear Kermit beyond all doubt; at Albion’s completely off-record suggestion, she even procured a warrant to enter the ICU so that a team of forensic technicians could photograph Sarah’s wounds and then prove that they didn’t match Kermit’s hands.  She also got another warrant to seize all the hospital security videos from that fateful day, and had another team look through hours of tape until they found what they were looking for: the image of Sarah waddling into the elevator and being knocked unconscious and dragged out of the shaft by a man dressed in black who hadn’t bothered to wear a mask, and that five different people —including General Hellstrom—, identified as Jack Straker. The rest of the rescue party was called in for questioning, and while Karen didn’t lead the interviews, she was the first to know that each and everyone of them had confirmed Kermit’s version right down to the single iota. The CSIs matched the computer-generated portraits of Isaac Justin and the other two thugs that had first attacked Sarah ten months ago to three of the bodies found at the compound and confirmed Sarah’s DNA had been found in the shackles hanging from the ceiling of one of the rooms of the building, and that most of the blood in that room and in the clearing belonged to her. They couldn’t explain the pile of ashes satisfactorily, though, nor the gooey substance they found scattered through the dirt: they could classify them as organic in origin, but that was pretty much all they could say.

“And, that’s a wrap!” said Karen gleefully, when she added the last report to the investigation file, “it feels _so good_ to clear an innocent man for a change!”

 

Kermit hardly dared to believe things had gone so smoothly, having distrusted sudden bouts of good luck right about at the same time he’d stopped believing in Santa; but, in the end, he decided wisely not to look at that particular horse in the teeth as it had allowed him to walk back into the hospital without fearing Sarah’s colleagues would stone his _tuchas_ on sight. Frankie didn’t have to sneak him inside the ICU anymore, and he was allowed short visiting periods, which steadily increased over the days, as soon as the ICU personnel realized Sarah’s condition improved whenever Kermit was near. Still, they hadn’t been able to wane her off the tube, and she couldn’t be discharged from the ICU and transferred to a recovery ward until that happened.

“Come on, Sweetcakes”, Kermit would egg her on, “you need to wake up… if you don’t, I’ll name the Muppets Bardolph and Dorcas, see if I don’t”, and that usually earned him a hard squeeze on his hand and the dirty look of the ICU nurse in charge of Sarah, when the heart rate in the monitor went up.

Almost two weeks had passed since that fateful Halloween night, and as they steadily approached Sarah’s original due date, the Muppets grew stronger but isolated in their sterile incubators. Frankie had managed to snap a picture of them to give to Kermit, and he now carried it in his wallet and waved it in front of Sarah’s sleeping face in every visit, to encourage her to open her eyes.

“They’re doing fine, Sweetcakes”, he’d say, “but they need you… we all need you. Please, please wake up, I love you, I need you, I miss you so much… I can’t live without you, I really can’t…”

Whenever he reached that part, the nurse had to run away to wipe her watering eyes where Kermit couldn’t see her.

Uncle Albion had gotten Jim an extent on his leave of abscense and the young Major had moved into Brookside for the time being, so as to keep his father company and make sure he’d eat and get some sleep.

“Come on, Papa, eat your dinner”, Jim said each time, “I know my cooking is nowhere near as good as Mama’s, but she’ll have my head when she wakes up and sees you’re dead on your feet! Eat up”.

The truth was Jim barely had to cook at all, because Marilyn, Annie, and even Skalany and Jody had taken turns on cooking casseroles for Kermit and Jim, and they had food coming out of their ears at all times of day. Kermit had decided to freeze most of the stuff, so that when Sarah was finally home she wouldn’t have to worry about a thing except getting better.

Kermit had nightmares almost every night, and he was sure some of them weren’t his, but Sarah’s. It appeared that their connection was stronger when they were both asleep, and Kermit would often wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, his heart beating its way out of his chest, feeling scared, anguished, _trapped…_ and not knowing what to do to help his wife.

“Sounds like the time I was trapped in the Bardo”, Peter said when Kermit told him.

Kermit nodded. He hadn’t been there to see it first hand, but Paul had told him all about it.

“That’s what I thought”, he said heavily. “Isn’t there a way I could go in there and bring her back?”

“We’ll have to ask Pop”, Peter said, “but I am sure there is. After all, your Chis are entwined, aren’t they?”

Kermit’s jaw dropped.

“That’s it, Peter, _that’s it!_ ” he exclaimed, “why didn’t _I_ think of that? Of course I can get in, I just need a little help from Caine”.

Kermit and Caine had worked out their issues without really discussing them, as often men did. Caine had apologized for not telling them about the second part of the prophecy, but still mantained there was no other way for that evil to be destroyed, so all in all, it didn’t feel like an apology to Kermit.

“As long as she survives and there’s no third part to that fucking prophecy ‘he’ll tell me about when I’m ready’, I’d just rather put it past me”, Kermit said to Paul, who had agreed wholeheartedly, all the more because that was Kermit’s essence: quick to flare up and lash out, but also capable of admitting when he was wrong, apologizing and putting things behind him just as easily… Something Peter had yet to master, Shaolin training notwithstanding.

So, Kermit had marched himself to Caine’s little loft to explain his idea to him.

“I remember when Peter got injured. I wasn’t there, but Paul told me what you did”, Kermit said, “isn’t it possible that Sarah is trapped in the Bardo as well?”

Caine shrugged.

“It… is possible”, he said at last, “and if she is indeed… trapped in the Bardo… only you can get her out. But… we need to heal her Chi first”.

Kermit stared at him. He had thought that was the whole point of going into the Bardo.

“No”, Caine denied softly, reading his thoughts, “The Bardo is the twilight world, a place… between life and death, where her soul is held… while she battles physical death. Her Chi… is the life force that will permit her to conquer death… and hence, leave the Bardo. But… her Chi suffered a serious damage during… the Blue Moon. We… must make it whole first… before we attempt to enter the Bardo. Master”, Caine added, addressing Lo Si, “we… will need your help”.

The Ancient nodded gravelly and approached them, holding a porcelain mortar containing crushed herbs.

“Prior to the Blue Moon”, Lo Si said, “I had Sarah take these herbs. They possess many qualities, among them the hability of regenerating the Chi. She must have some more before you attempt to enter the Bardo.”

“But… she has a tube down her throat”, said Kermit. “How will she eat them?”

“She… will not”, Caine said. “You will”.

“Me?” quipped Kermit in disbelief.

“Your chis… are entwined”, Caine said for the umpteenth time that year.

“Right, right…”

“If it touches your Chi… It shall consequentially… heal hers”.

“All right, bring it on, then”, Kermit said, rubbing his hands together, a small ray of hope kindling in his chest. “How long before we can see any results?”

Caine shrugged.

“I—” he began, but Kermit held up a hand.

 _“Don’t_ … say it. Just— please— let’s get on with it”.

 

Lo Si offered him the mortar and Kermit put a handful of crushed herbs in his mouth, chewing slowly. He grimaced; the herbs tasted thirty-one flavors of awful.

“No wonder my poor wife kept throwing up”, he said.

“That was… one of the causes, indeed”, Caine agreed.

“What’s that?”

“I— sowed her strength throughout her pregnancy”, Caine explained, “so as to prepare her for the upcoming battle… with the Shadow. It… took a toll on her physical body… added to the effects of the pregnancy alone… and the metamorphosis she… went through. That… is what allowed her to survive”.

“Barely”, grouched Kermit. “Caine, you’re one scary character. You would have been a deadly mercenary”.

Kermit finished the herbs through sheer will and had an internal argument with his stomach so that it wouldn’t send them back up. While Sarah was pregnant, he had sometimes channeled her perennial nausea and felt a fleeting dizziness along with bile rising up his throat, but it had passed quickly enough so that he wouldn’t register it as particularly bothersome; but now he was feeling it first hand and suddenly he just wanted to rush to the hospital to embrace his wife and tell her how much he revered her… And maybe, get some IV fluids for himself.

“How did she manage to function at all feeling like this all the time?” Kermit wondered out loud.

Caine shrugged.

“She is… stronger than anyone of us knew”.

“I’ll say”, Kermit agreed, still a little green in the face.

 

He spent the remainder of that evening clutching a wastebasket just in case he needed to puke suddenly, and after nearly passing out after standing up too quickly, he decided to just ask Paul for a sick day and go home, where he could die in peace. He got to his lonesome house and flopped into the couch —he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to sleep in their bedroom all alone—, and smiled weakly when Bailey tottered towards him and curled into a ball at his feet. He used to do the same with Sarah, when she was feeling particularly ill.

“You miss her too, don’t you, big guy?” Kermit said quietly.

Bailey lowered his ears and emitted a shrill cry.

“I know… I am going to get her back, big guy, I promise. And you’ll be thrilled when you meet your little brother and sister!” Kermit laughed out loud, thinking he’d sounded just like Sarah when she talked to the dog. Bailey wagged his tail at his words and looked at him unwaveringly with his pale blue eyes. He yawned and resumed his previous position, falling asleep easily; soon, Kermit joined him, and that night, he dreamed.

 

 

There was a crib in the middle of an empty room. There were no colors, no sounds, just hues of gray and white, and the asphyxiating feeling of being underwater. Kermit tried to approach the crib, but he couldn’t move in any direction, he just flapped his arms and legs wildly, as if he were swimming through a bowl of Jell-O. Painfully, slowly, he struggled his way to the crib, only to find it empty when he finally reached it.  He fought for air, putting a hand to his chest, and when he took it away, it shone with a silvery glow.

 _Sarah,_ he thought, and tried to scream her name, to no avail. He held his hand up to shed some light through the room, and he saw a figure huddled in a corner. He tried to catch its attention, but he couldn’t make his voice be heard, and the figure’s head was bent down, staring at the floor. With an oneiric sigh of impatience, Kermit floundered his way to the corner where the figure was.

It was a little girl, her dark hair gathered in two braids that fell half-way down her back; she was dressed with a white tunic that covered her knees and left her arms bare, and she wore leather sandals in her little feet. There was a bow and a quiver against the wall behind her, and she was sitting inside a round steel shield.

 _“Sarah?”_ asked Kermit inside his head.

The little girl shook her head in denial, but she didn’t look up.

_“Are you OK? Who are you?”_

The little girl didn’t answer. Kermit sat beside her and gently touched her shoulder.

_“What’s your name? My name is Kermit”._

The little girl looked up suddenly at the mention of his name, clapping excitedly. She tugged at Kermit’s hand as she stood up, urging him to do the same. Kermit obliged and followed the little girl out of the Jell-O room, noticing now it was very easy to walk. As soon as the door closed behind them, he could hear again, but the scenery remained unwashed and gray. The little girl trotted happily through long, tall halls, and led Kermit to a vast garden. There was a pond full of lilies right in the middle —as the crib had been in the room they’d left behind—, and the girl pointed at the pond repeatedly.

 _“You want to go in there?”_ Kermit asked in his head, still unable to say the words out loud, and the little girl shook her head: _“No, you want_ me _to go in there”,_   Kermit said, and the girl nodded vigorously.

 _“Well, what the hell”_ , Kermit  said and he approached the pond. Suddenly, his skin crawled. The water was calm and dark, nothing betraying whether something  lurked in its depths, but Kermit felt wary nonetheless. He looked at the girl dubiously and she pointed at the water resolutely. Kermit shrugged and put a foot in the cold water; as soon as he touched it, the water began to ripple menacingly.

 _“No way”,_ Kermit said hushedly, but the girl tugged at the hem of his cuff and looked at him with pleading eyes.

 _“What’s in there, Babycakes?”_ Kermit asked, and the girl pierced him with her huge gray eyes, but she didn’t speak. The water undulated again, more vigorously this time.

 _“Well, why not”_ , said Kermit, and without further ado, he plunged head-first into the water, fully clothed and with his shoes still on.

A green tinge surrounded him once he pierced the surface, and again he felt as if he were swimming through Jell-O; silvery things floated beside him, and Kermit knew —though he couldn’t have said how—, that he ought not touch them.

_Lest you stay here forever…_

Kermit kept fighting his way through the depths of the pond, while the rational part of his brain wondered what the hell was he doing. He reached what he assumed was the bottom, and his fingertips grazed a plushy ball curled up over itself. Shrugging, Kermit hooked his fingers around it and taking it with him, swam back up, finding that the gelatinous sensation was gone. He emerged from the pond with the soaked ball in his arms and staggered forward, collapsing on the ground, coughing and sputtering.

 _“Is this what you wanted, Babycakes?”_ he panted, offering her the ball. The little girl clapped excitedly and took it from him, patting it dry and showering it with little kisses. Kermit smiled despite himself. The ball shook like a wet dog and emitted a high chirp; a little head on top of a graceful neck shot up and the ball spread two little black wings, shaking the excess water off of them. It was a cygnet.  Kermit stared, a little light of recognition shimmering in the back of his brain

 

             _The cygnet is drowning_ —

 

But the feeling was gone before he could grasp it. The girl looked at Kermit happily and kissed the cygnet’s head before placing it in the shield she had been sitting in. The cygnet chirped and shook his wings again. The little girl danced around him, and as the back of her immaculate tunic swayed with her movements, Kermit could see that she too had wings, real ones, with soft, glossy black feathers that strongly resembled the tattoo on Sarah’s back. Kermit swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly full of tears.

 _“Who are you?”_ he croaked, managing to speak at last, and the little girl smiled sweetly at him.

The cygnet began to batter its wings and to squawk loudly; and in the blink of an eye, it was gone, and a little boy had taken its place, a pale little creature with dark curly hair and lustrous wings coming out of his back. He turned to look at Kermit and smiled at him as well. Hermit inhaled sharply.

 _“You’re_ — _you’re_ —”, he stammered.

 _“Mama”_ said the little girl, pointing behind Kermit. He turned swiftly with a hopeful smile, but Sarah wasn’t there: it was _High_ _Admiral_ ¸ Rykker’s black Friesian, lapping at the water in the pond. Kermit blinked in confusion and gazed at the little girl.

 _“Mama”_ she said again, pointing at the horse: _“Bryn”,_ she said, signaling at herself, _“Brother”,_ she pointed at the little boy, and then at Kermit: _“Brother”._

 _“No, I’m your_ —” Kermit began, but couldn’t go through with the Darth Vaderish remark.

 _Sarah said that,_ he thought inside his head and he suddenly wanted to cry. The girl shook her dark head.

 _“No”,_ she said, and pointed at Kermit: _“your brother helps Mama”._

 

And with that, Kermit awoke, drenched in sweat despite the cold November night, and hugging the same cushion Sarah used to support her bulging belly when they watched TV on the couch. It still smelled of her. Kermit shuddered and snuggled into the cushion, almost believing for a moment it was Sarah he had in his arms.

 

**~*~**

 

She was riding _High Admiral_ bareback, and they were racing through fields of high grass, the sun shining bright above, and the sky so blue, not a cloud in sight. She was free, flighty, joyous… And still… her heart ached, knowing she had left something behind.

_“Stop, Rider…”_

She heard the voice floating around her, but she didn’t want to stop.

_“Heed me, Rider… stop”._

_High Admiral_ whinnied and came to a halt just in front of a beautiful pond. He trotted towards the edge and began to lap at the water thirstily, Sarah still on horseback, looking for the source of the voice.

 _“You have left the cygnets”,_  the voice said then, _“you can not leave them behind”._

Sarah looked at the pond but she saw no birds whatsoever. She blinked, confused.

 _“You need to go back, Sarah…”_ said a new voice, this time closer, almost embracing her.

 _“Go back where?”_ Sarah asked.

“ _Back to them”,_ the female voice replied, _“Don’t leave them like I left you”._

 _“What? Who are you?”_ Sarah questioned, but suddenly _High Admiral_  fretted and neighed urgently, nearly tumbling her to the ground. Sarah looked down and saw a vividly green snake coiled next to _High Admiral’s_ front hooves.

 _“Easy, boy”_ she whispered, running her fingers through the horse’s dark mane, _“she won’t hurt us”._

 _“Sarah”,_ said the snake, _“I am sorry I left you. I didn’t mean to. I would have never allowed them to take you away”._

 _“What?”_ asked Sarah again, _“What are you talking about?”_

 _“Heed the Viper…”_ said the other voice, and Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise.

 _“You’re_ — You’re _my_ —?”

_“You’re in the Bardo, Sarah, as are we for the time being. We were allowed to find you so that we could make you see”._

_“We? Who’s we?”_

_“Go back, Sarah, you must go back”,_ the Viper said, flicking out her tongue, _“before it’s too late and the Limbo embraces you. You can do it, Sarah, you are the true Shield because you were born out of love… and love shall bring you back”._

 _“… Remember what you left behind…”_ said the other voice.

 _“Follow him, Sarah, and do not stray. Time is of the essence”,_ said the Viper, and shot forward so that _High Admiral_ would break into a frightened trot away from the snake. They ran towards the fields of grass, but then they weren’t there anymore, but galloping madly through some woods instead, following a tall young man who ran barefoot over the frosted patches of dirt and leaves.

 _“Faster, faster!”_ he egged them on, _“I will lead you to your slumber”._

 _“Wait, I thought_ —”

_“Don’t talk, ride faster!”_

And _High Admiral_ plunged on, but couldn’t catch up with the young man. He came to a halt eventually and _High Admiral_ almost collided with him. Sarah managed to stay atop of the black horse with the ability given by the dream. _“Who_ —” Sarah began, but the young man held up a hand to stop her.

 _“I was chosen among the slain”,_ he said, _“and slain I was a while ago. I shall help you slumber, that shall make it easier for him”._

 _“You know, that sounds like a load of_ —”

The young man smiled, a devilish grin Sarah had seen before.

_“You must not leave the cygnets behind… that would bring forth their swan song”._

_“There you go again, more gibberish… What am I on, Ketamine?”_

_“Remarkable. I was told you wouldn’t know this was a dream”._

Sarah stared.

_“So can you drop the cryptics?”_

_“I am his brother”_ the young man said, _“I was sent to aid the keeper of his heart”._

_“Whose brother?”_

_“Slumber now, Rider”,_ the man said, _“I shall guard you until he comes through the fire”._

And he waved a hand, with a movement akin to the one Sarah herself used to channel her magic. Gray, cold flames erupted from the young man’s fingers and soon a circle of fire surrounded Sarah and _High Admiral._

 _“Hey! What the_ —!”

_“Slumber, Rider. He shall come”._

The young man waved his hand again, and Sarah fell gracefully from the horse to the ground, where she stayed, deep asleep. _High Admiral_ whinnied, nudging her with his muzzle; when she didn’t stir, _High Admiral_  shook his glossy dark mane, neighed again and jumped through and out of the circle of cold flames.

_“Come, Knight Bearer. I shall guard her slumber. You lead the knight to the ring of fire”:_

_*_

“She’s crashing!” yelled the ICU nurse urgently. The rest of the ICU team sprang into action immediately at that.

“Quick! Vitals! Pulse oximetry!” barked the head intensivist, Dr. Edelman, lunging forward, “what the hell is happening here? PaO2 is dropping! Did someone tamper with the ventilator?”

“No, doctor, C-PAP still at 100%....”

“She’s developing arrytmia…What does the ABG say?”

“Ph 7.3, PCO2 60, PO2 40, HCO3 -10”, said a resident clearly.

“All right! Get me a CPK, electrolytes, blood lactate, CBC, BUN and Methemoglobin, and in the meantime, keep the O2 at 100%, and pass her 13 amps of bicarbonate, IV push, now—! Wait, wait, she’s coming around!” the intensivist halted the nurse about to push the medication through the IV line.

The ICU team looked at one another, nonplussed.

“What on earth—?” Dr. Edelman asked out loud, “can someone tell me what just happened? Why did she plummet like that?”

The nurse and the residents looked at him silently.

“Come on, she didn’t develop metabolic acidosis just for the fun of it, what happened?”

“Well…” said the resident timidly, “it looked a bit like…CO poisoning”.

“Do you see any smoke around here, Avi?” Dr. Edelman said, witheringly, “unless someone plugged her tube to an invisible car’s exhaust pipe, there is no logical explanation as to what happened… I’ll want another ABG in 30 minutes to see if she’s still compensating… _Do not_ leave her side, do you hear me, Avi? Let me know if ANYTHING happens, do you get it?”

“Yes, doctor Edelman”, said Avi meekly.

Dr. Edelman strode out of Sarah’s cubicle and headed for the doctors’ lounge almost colliding with Frankie.

“What the FUCK happened?” Frankie came galloping in, his hands still dripping, as he hadn’t taken the time to pat them dry before bursting through the ICU door, “I heard the code but I was in another one down in the ER… Is she alright?”

“She is now”, Avi the resident said, “but she crashed suddenly, developed acidosis… I told Dr. Edelman it looked like CO poisoning but there’s no way that happened in here… I thought she was about to code but she bounced back just as quickly… she’s… in a deep slumber now, see her brainwaves there? She’s dreaming! But how can that be?”

“Well, find out and fix it!” barked Frankie, “I can’t go to her husband and tell him she got poisoned under our watch, he will kill us dead! Are you afraid of Denning, Avi? You should be _terrified_ of Kermit”.

“Yes, doctor, sir”, said Avi humbly and then he gathered the courage to continue, “you’re her friend, aren’t you, sir? You both work at the ER?”

Frankie nodded and Avi smiled behing his mouth-coverer.

“She was my attending during my ER rotation, when I was an intern”, Avi said, “she was so good to me… I wasn’t exactly popular among my peers, you see? But she didn’t mind”.

“Yeah, that’s Sarah… she has a soft spot for the forgotten, the weak... She… takes them under her wing to shield them, just like she does with the dogs and cats she rescues”.

“Yes!” said Avi excitedly, “that’s it! She makes no difference and she _cares_ , she really cares, sir… She always knew when I couldn’t go on and she would let me catch some shuteye… she always made sure I’d eaten before starting the shift… or… you know, if we couldn’t go out because we were swamped, she’d offer me a bite of her own lunch…” Avi laughed sadly, “she even bought a cake on my last day and said she thought I was a very good intern…. Did you know?” a tear rolled down Avi’s cheek. Frankie nodded kindly. Sarah always did that with the interns under her tutelage, because she preached that nurture made better doctors than torture. And she was right.

“Who did this to her?” Avi was asking then.

“A psycho”, Frankie replied, “they’ve got every cop and his brother looking for him”.

“I hope they find him”, said Avi fervently, “and I hope that he never gets within my reach, or else…” he made a wringing movement with his bony hands.

Frankie smiled.

“Then again, Kermit might like you, too, Avi”, he said, “Keep me posted, would you? I gotta go back to the ER”.

“Sure thing, sir. I’ll look after her, I’m gonna make her proud”.

“I am sure she already is, Avi”, said Frankie kindly and left the ICU.


	30. Chapter 30

 

“That…” said Caine slowly, “is a very interesting dream indeed. Full of…” he waved his hand, “symbolism and meaning”.

Kermit nodded.

“Bryn— the little girl, I mean, said that my brother would help Mama— Sarah, I presume… But, what does that mean? My brother is dead. Does that mean that Sarah— oh, God!” he stopped himself, horrified, unable to finish the sentence.

Caine raised up a hand.

“Not… necessarily”, he said, “It could mean that… the two of them have met in the Bardo. It could… also mean… that he was sent to the Bardo… to help you to get her back… just as you helped the little girl save the cygnet.  Remember, Kermit… dreams… are symbolic… and… they are not always… what they seem”.

“This one was symbolic all right”, Kermit muttered. “That was our little girl, I am sure of it. And…” Kermit blushed slightly, “she was a little Valkyrie as well… she had Sarah’s wings, but they were real, Caine, not just a tattoo. And the boy had wings also. And the horse… well… horses, ravens and cygnets are all traditionally associated with Valkyries. I read that after— after—”

Caine nodded in understanding.

“Horses are also messengers”, said Peter thoughtfully, “and they symbolize freedom for the most part… But they are also associated with the spoils of war. Which reminds me, what ever happened to Hagen Völsung?”

Kermit blinked.

“I had forgotten about him”.

“Clearly, your subconscious hasn’t”, Peter observed.

“Yes, thank you, Peter Freud”, said Kermit, not entirely annoyed. Peter grinned and patted Kermit’s back.

“Well, I’ll ask Frankie about him”, said Kermit then, “I was actually on my way to the hospital”.

“We… should come with you”, Caine offered, “so that we seek Dr. Sabourin’s acquiescence to access… the intensive care unit”.

Kermit nodded in agreement and soon the three men had climbed into Kermit’s green Corvair (Sarah’s ruined SUV was still in the shop), and were driving towards the hospital in silence. 

 

 

       ~*~

 

 

Dr. Sabourin looked at them with a guarded expression.

“Oh, Caine, I don’t know about this… it could be very dangerous”, she said after Caine and Kermit were done exposing their idea to her.

Caine shrugged.

“It… could save her, like it did Peter. Do you not… recall?”

Dr. Sabourin got up from her desk and paced around the room.

“Look, I’ve seen you do many amazing things over the years, Caine”, she said, “That’s not the problem. It’s not that I doubt you, it’s just—” she looked pleadingly at Kermit, “it’s just that she barely survived this whole ordeal, and she’s not out of the woods yet, not anywhere near it. I just can’t risk—”

“Let us… bring her out of the woods, then. Please”, Caine said.

Dr. Sabourin took a seat again and buried her head in her hands.

“Oh… OK, then”, she gave in a while later, raising her head, “but, if anything happens, _anything at all_ , you’ll leave immediately and leave it to us, is that understood?”

Caine bowed and Kermit jerked his head fractionally in silent acknowledgement. Dr. Sabourin seemed to notice and she added:

“By the way, please accept my heartfelt apologies, Detective Griffin. My boss overstepped himself. I am sorry you had to go through _that_ on top of everything else”.

She held out her hand and Kermit took it.

“Thank you”, he said.

They let go rather awkwardly and Peter spoke for the first time, trying to defuse the tension:

“We have been meaning to ask you, Dr. Sabourin, what happened to Hagen Völsung?”

“Who?”

“You know, that guy who attacked Sarah the last time she was hospitalized and got his head cracked open for his trouble”.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Dr. Sabourin, remembering, “Is this official or…?”

“Well, it is part of the investigation, so yeah, it is official”, said Peter.

“Let me check for you”.

Dr. Sabourin turned to the PC in the corner of her desk, pressed a few keys and sighed.

“Hagen Völsung died this morning and he never regained consciousness”, she said flatly.

Caine, Kermit and Peter exchanged meaningful looks, but followed Dr. Sabourin through the hallways in silence.

They ran into Frankie just as they were nearing the ICU and, it might have been Kermit’s idea, but it felt to him like Frankie was avoiding his gaze.

“Dr. Paulson”, said Dr. Sabourin ceremoniously, “how are you today?”

“Quite well, thank you, Dr. Sabourin”, the usually bubbly redhead doctor replied serenely.

“Is Dr. Edelman inside?”

“No, just the resident. Dr. Edelman went to the lab to bring some samples he collected from Sarah himself”. 

“Why, what happened?” asked Kermit immediately.

Frankie tried to arrange his features to something resembling blankness but failed dismally. He sighed heavily and did his best to face Kermit.

“I don’t know for sure”, he begun, “I wasn’t there, but from what I gather, she woke up from her comma, but following suit there was… a minor complication. She bounced back just as quickly as it happened, she didn’t need any extra meds or maneuvers but…” he stopped himself, every fiber of his body telling him not to go on: “but she’s been stubbornly asleep ever since, and nothing we do wakes her up. She’s not in a comma, that we know for sure, we can see in the EEG that she is sleeping… we just can’t wake her up. Avi— the resident, that is, he told me that her blood work looked as if she’d been exposed to smoke, but of course, there has not been a fire anywhere near her”, he assured Kermit quickly, “so that’s why Dr. Edelman collected some new samples, just to make sure”.

“I see” Kermit said. Suddenly, the image of the little girl of his dream crossed his mind _(Bryn)_ and he asked Frankie: “are the babies alright?”

Frankie stared at him incredulously.

“I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed, “How did you know?”

“I didn’t”, Kermit said hurriedly. “Did something happen?”

“You’ve been around Caine _far too much_ for your own good”, Frankie observed, “yes, last night the baby boy had that bronchial spasm again and he had a little trouble breathing—”

“…Almost as if he was drowning, right?” Kermit said.

“Kermit, you’re scaring me, man”, Frankie said, and he meant it, “yes, he gaped like a fish out of the water and the baby girl wailed her head off until his breathing evened… which happened as suddenly as the difficulty started, by the way”.

_Bryn. Brother._

 

Kermit’s skin broke out in goosebumps.

 

“But they are OK, now”, Frankie said, looking at Kermit warily. Kermit nodded, to let Frankie know he believed him.

“It is… Sarah’s stubborn slumber… the reason we are here”, Caine observed calmly, and Frankie turned his gaze towards the old Shaolin.

“What?”

“Mr. Caine is going to perform a, uh… an alternative treatment on Sarah, Frankie”, said Dr. Sabourin, “they will be needing to access the ICU for about an hour”.

 _“They?”_ echoed Frankie.

“Kermit and Mr. Caine, of course”.

“But, boss! You know that—”

“I am perfectly aware of our hospital regulations, Dr. Paulson, thank you”, said Dr. Sabourin regally, “Regardless, the both of them will enter and we’d best do it now that Dr. Edelman isn’t here to put up a fight”.

She marched them through the glass doors and they performed the sanitizing ritual with the swiftness earned by practice.

Peter stood behind with Frankie, and Dr. Sabourin walked back out a couple of minutes later.

“Aren’t you going to stay?” asked Frankie.

“Oh, no”, said Dr. Sabourin, with a light smile, “Plausible deniability, Dr. Paulson, remember? We were never here”.

And she walked away through the hallways, her high heels clicking rhythmically on the tile floor.

 

~*~

 

Caine busied himself around Sarah, preparing her aura for the ritual he was about to perform. Kermit watched in silence with wide eyes, taking in the pallor of Sarah’s skin and in the way her hands lay lifeless at her sides, swollen and clammy like floppy fishes. She was losing hair by the handful, and colorful bruises still adorned her arms. Kermit cringed inwardly. _This had better work_ , he told himself; _I don’t think she can hold on much longer._

Caine motioned Kermit to lay in the floor right next to Sarah’s bed, and he obeyed quickly; he felt Caine’s thumb pressing his forehead and at the next minute he was back at the pond full of lilies from whence he’d fished out the little cygnet-boy. _Bryn,_ his mind whispered. _Your brother helps Mama._

Kermit took a couple of hesitant steps towards the pond, and soon he made out _High Admiral’s_ silhouette nearby, stomping his front left leg on the grey grass. Kermit walked towards him and _High Admiral_ fretted at the sight of him.

“Please”, said Kermit with his softest voice, “I am no animal whisperer like Sarah, but I need to get to her. Will you take me to Sarah, _High Admiral?”_

 _High Admiral_ neighed warily and stood on his hind legs. He looked quite menacing all of a sudden.

“Please”, begged Kermit, a tear rolling down his bearded cheek. It fell to the grass at Kermit’s feet and it glowed suddenly. Kermit bent over to take a closer look and saw a ring shining among the blades of grass. It was Sarah’s engagement ring. Kermit picked it up and looked at the horse, nonplussed. _High Admiral_ neighed again and bent down his powerful neck and front legs, so that Kermit could climb onto his back.

“I can’t ride worth a damn”, muttered Kermit, “so be gentle, OK?

 _High Admiral_ whinnied cheerfully and launched them into a neck-breaking sprint, racing them both through fields of hay and tall grass. Kermit looked up and noticed there was not a cloud in sight, but the Bardo remained as cold and grey as the agates in the ring he was currently clutching in his fist.

 _High Admiral_ galloped madly, as if the Hounds of hell were behind him, and came to a screeching halt in front of an intricately carved mirror that stood alone in a clearing.  The mighty horse neighed and bent down again, so Kermit dismounted and approached the mirror.

“What the—” he whispered.

He could see the grass and part of the grey sky perfectly mirrored in the silvery pane, but that was it. Despite his standing in front of the looking glass, Kermit cast no reflection in it whatsoever.

“Are you brave, Knight?” a voice thundered suddenly all around him, rich, deep and seductive, and as untainted as a silver bell: “is your heart pure?”

Kermit looked around him, casting for something to say. He saw _High Admiral_ frolicking in the grass not far, and he smiled to himself. The sight had reminded him of Bailey, playing with Sarah with not a care in the world.

“No”, he said at last, “I am not pure of heart. I used to consider myself brave, however now… now I am not so sure”.

The incorporeal voice gave a rich, musical laugh.

“You are true, Knight, and that makes you pure. You may enter, but heed my word, what you see here cannot be unseen”.

A thunder rumbled in the distance and Kermit twitched. Hesitantly, he approached the mirror, wondering how on earth would he manage to go through it without breaking it, and held out his left hand, his right one instinctively searching for his Dessert Eagle. It wasn’t there.

“No weapons, Knight”, said the voice and laughed again.

 

With a shrug, Kermit looked again for _High Admiral_ and couldn’t see him, so he assumed he ought to cross the mirror on his own, so he walked slowly forward and into the glass, stepping through it as if it was made of thin gossamer.

He stopped in his tracks abruptly, taking in the scenery before him. It resembled a coliseum: fallen warriors lay scattered on the ground, blood gushing out of multiple wounds, vultures slowly circling some of them, waiting for the flesh to rot. Try as he might, Kermit could not see their attackers, but he adopted a defensive stance nonetheless.

He approached one of the fallen warriors and a scream rose deep inside him, only to die in his throat; this fallen soldier was Sarah.

“Sweetcakes—” he croaked. “Why— How— Who did this to you?”

Sarah-the-soldier closed her eyes and turned her bloody face away from him. She had died.

“I did”, answered someone behind Kermit, and he turned on his heels to confront the owner of the voice. His face blanched as he realized this new soldier was also Sarah, armed to the teeth and with a steely glint in her eyes that Kermit knew all too well.

“Why— Why would you do that?” Kermit asked her, his mouth dry.

“They deserve it”, said the Other Sarah dismissively. “Unworthy, the lot of them”.

“But they’re YOU!” Kermit bellowed.

“And that matters because…?” replied the Other Sarah mockingly.

Kermit stared at her and said nothing.

“Oh, here comes another one!” said the Other Sarah gleefully and suddenly produced a humongous scythe, nearly three times her size, but she handled it without difficulty. Kermit put a hand to her shoulder.

“I can’t let you do this”, he said.

“Really not your place, sport”, said she, still with mockery in her voice, “‘Tis she who must stop me”.

 

Kermit saw yet another Sarah approaching them, and the Other Sarah he was talking to let out an inhuman cry and, brandishing the scythe above her head, broke into a trot towards the newcomer. Without thinking, Kermit held out his foot and the Other Sarah tripped, losing the scythe in the process. The weapon banished in a swirl of smoke.

The Newcomer Sarah reached the fallen one and hesitated.

“Don’t kill me!” Said a little voice fearfully, and Kermit rubbed at his eyes incredulously. The Other Sarah was gone, and in her place, a small little girl knelt on the ground, crying as she begged for her life. The Newcomer Sarah approached the little girl with a smile and began to crouch beside so as to soothe her. In that moment the little girl’s eyes flashed grey and Kermit understood.

“No, Sweetcakes, you must kill her, kill her now, don’t let her grow!”

The Newcomer Sarah looked up, peering wildly in every direction. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him.

“I— can’t” she said simply.

“Like hell you can’t!” yelled Kermit, “Those are your inner demons, Sarah, and that’s how they get you! That’s how they’ve always gotten to you! Don’t let them grow, kill them while they’re small!”

The little girl gave a shrill laugh and the Newcomer Sarah reached for an arrow in her quiver. She placed it in the bow with shaking hands and shot it, aiming directly at the girl’s head. The girl screamed as she sensed death approaching and suddenly the coliseum was gone. Kermit was left standing in the middle of nowhere, with no clue as to where to go next.

 

~*~

 

“How long have they been in there?” asked Peter fretfully.

“Nearly an hour”, answered Frankie. “If they don’t come out soon, Dr. Edelman will filet my liver”.

In that very minute, the alarm signaling a blue code blared through the air, and Frankie ran through the doors without bothering with sanitizing ablutions. He galloped towards Sarah’s bed, confirmed quickly on the monitor screen that she was flat-lining and crashed into an invisible barrier when he tried to step closer to Sarah.

“CAINE!” he barked, “Let me through! She is DYING!”

Caine held out a hand to both stop and silence Frankie, and turned his attention to Sarah. Frankie saw bolts of electricity coming out of the old Shaolin’s fingers, and yelled again:

“Caine, you motherfucker, stop that _immediately!_ This is not the time for your Hocus Po—” but he stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Caine touching Sarah’s chest lightly, and suddenly the monitor was beeping again with a steady rhythm.

Frankie’s jaw dropped.

“How—?” he began, but Caine silenced him again.

“Leave. Now”, he said curtly, “it is almost over”.

 

Meekly, Frankie retraced his steps and joined Peter outside.

“Your father—” Frankie begun, but didn’t know how to continue.

“Yeah, tell me about it”, agreed Peter. “What happened?”

Frankie stared at him with the eyes of a man whose whole world has just been turned upside down and said nothing.

 

Not that Peter needed him to, anyway.

 

~*~

 

Kermit wandered aimlessly for what it felt like hours; he went through more fields, more abandoned coliseums, more neglected ruins, he even walked the tideline of an unexpected beach. He somehow ended up in an elegant hallway, with tall walls that seemed to go on forever in the distance. He looked both ways and noticed gruesome images hanging from the walls: bloody battlefields, people being subjected to indescribable torture, all of it depicted to the tiniest detail and in bright colors. Kermit started, suddenly realizing it was the first glimpse of color he’d seen since entering the Bardo and looked up from the painting he was examining, nodding to himself: the rest of that world remained sordid and grey.

Kermit kept on walking, trying not to dwell on the horrible images depicted to either side of him, so he almost missed when they began to change. Even the atmosphere felt a little lighter, and Kermit was filled with sudden hope. He looked at the closest painting, a part of him realizing he did not possess the wording or the presence of mind to fully understand or describe what he was seeing outside of the world he was currently in: he had felt just the same at Shambhala, during his Bonding to Sarah, and he suddenly understood he had wandered deeply into Sarah’s mind.

_So… are those paintings more of her demons?_

Faintly, from afar, he heard a vibrant voice echoing melodiously:

 

_I heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played and it pleased the Lord,_

_But you don’t really care for music, do ya?_

_Well, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,_

_The minor fall, the major lift,_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah…_

Kermit felt the skin on his arms breaking out in goosebumps, and quickened his pace.

“Sarah?” he yelled as he all but ran onward, “SARAH?!”

 

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof,_

_You saw her bathing on the roof,_

_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya._

_She tied you to a kitchen chair,_

_She broke your throne, and she cut your hair,_

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

 

Abandoning all pretenses now, Kermit broke into a desperate trot, and it took him a while to notice he was jogging on the same spot.

“Oh, come ON!” he screamed in frustration.

He tried to go back to walking, but he still wouldn’t move forward; he dropped to his knees and tried to crawl his way out of there, but all he managed was to get stuck to the worn-out road, unable to budge an inch. Nearly weeping with unsung vexation, he felt something nuzzling his sweat-drenched hair. Kermit looked up and almost kissed _High Admiral’s_ black jowls. The horse whinnied gently and gave him a slightly disapproving look. _What are you doing there on the floor, wasting time?_ his dark eyes seemed to say.

 _“H_ — _High Admiral!”_ Kermit stuttered, “Help me, please! Take me to her!”

The gigantic horse nodded and bent down next to Kermit, who clambered clumsily on top of the majestic animal. _High Admiral_ rose from the ground and galloped swiftly ahead.

“The music!” Kermit urged him, “Follow the music!”

 

_I did my best, it wasn’t much,_

_I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch,_

_I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya;_

_And even though it all went wrong,_

_I’ll stand before the Lord of Song_

_With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah…_

“No, no, no, no, it’s not too late!” Kermit hollered, digging his heels into _High Admiral’s_ sides to edge him on, “You won’t stand before the Lord, not if I can’t help it! Ride faster, _High Admiral,_ faster!”

The horse neighed in protest but he sprinted even faster anyway, almost flying with Kermit on his back. The race seemed to go on forever, until they finally reached a clearing and _High Admiral_ stopped abruptly, effectively catapulting Kermit over his pointy ears onto the ground.

“You damn animal…” Kermit muttered, getting up quickly and patting at his already ruined pants. _High Admiral_ whinnied, and it felt to Kermit like the horse was laughing at him.

 

_Well, baby, I’ve been here before,_

_I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor,_

_I used to live alone before I knew ya._

_I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,_

_And love is not a victory march,_

_It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…_

Kermit examined his surroundings and held his breath as he took in the scenery. Approximately fifty feet away from where he stood, a ring of fire burned incessantly, its grey flames crackling and almost touching the sky. The fire seemed contained to the circle where they rose from, and there was barely any smoke at all. Kermit walked slowly towards it, wincing with every step, and stopped in his tracks when he realized there was no heat emanating from the fire, either; no, that fire was as cold as the broken Hallelujah.

 

_Well, there was a time when you let me know,_

_What’s really going on below,_

_But now you never show that to me, do ya?_

_But remember when I moved with you,_

_And the Holy Dove was moving too,_

_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah…_

Kermit felt suddenly overcome by desire: intimate, passionate memories of him and Sarah impetuously flooded his senses, making him pant and fall to his knees again, sweating profusely.

 “You made it”, said a new voice, and Kermit reined in his yearning through sheer will of power. He looked up and his jaw dropped to the floor, all his lust forgotten.

“D—David!” he breathed out.

“One and the same”, said his brother, with the dashing smile he shared with his nephew Jim: “or, rather, David’s imprint”.

“His— _imprint?_ David, have you been stuck here since—” Kermit didn’t finish the sentence, breathless again, and horrified beyond measure at the thought.

“No, my brother, I have moved on. I was given this temporary form to move through the Bardo freely so I could guard the slumber of the Keeper of your heart. The powers that be felt they owed it to you… and her”.

“I’ll bet they did”, grouched Kermit.

David laughed, and Kermit almost wept at the intensity with which he had longed to hear that sound again.

“Now”, said David briskly, “did you bring it? You won’t be able to cross without it”.

“Did I bring what?” Kermit repeated, nonplussed, “the— the voice in the looking glass said no weapons, I didn’t—!”

David laughed again.

“Not a weapon, Kermit: the ring. You must present her with the ring so that the flames let you through”.

“But… it was destroyed… Caine took it to dispose of it”, Kermit was very close to tears now.

“Kermit, get a grip!” shouted David impatiently, and suddenly he was just his younger brother and not an ethereal manifestation of his soul in another plane of existence: “Were you also stripped of your brain before entering the Bardo? The ring, _her_ ring, the one you asked for her hand with, the one you picked up near the pond, after it was born from your tear!”

Kermit’s eyes widened and he felt in his pockets for the aforementioned piece of jewelry, praying to the gods above he hadn’t dropped it somewhere. He felt a miniature heart attack when he didn’t find it at first, but he finally managed to hook his fingers around the thin band and fished it out of his pocket, showing it to David meekly.

“Good”, he said approvingly, “now, go. This you must do alone. My work here is done”.

“But— won’t I see you on the way out?” asked Kermit, his voice trembling.

“No”, said David, not unkindly, “I have moved on, my brother. I am at peace now. Please, believe it at last and rejoice in the gift the powers bestowed on you”.

A single tear escaped Kermit’s left eye and he hung his head.

“I love you, brother”, David said, and he was gone.

“I love you too”, echoed Kermit miserably, and smiled through his grief when he heard the call of an eagle in the distance. Eagles had always been David’s favorite birds.

 

Kermit walked slowly towards the ring of fire, the other ring firmly clutched in his tense hand.

 

_Well, maybe there is a God above,_

_But all I’ve ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya,_

_And it’s not a cry that you hear at night,_

_It’s not somebody who has seen the light,_

_It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah._

The voice reverberated in Kermit’s ears, moving and powerful, making his very bones shudder with a swirl of ineffable emotions. He made a sound in his nose and managed a small smile.

“I would have expected you’d sing _‘Heil dir, Sonne’_ , Sweetcakes”, he said, genuinely cheerful for the first time in weeks: “But I guess _‘Hallelujah’_ means more to the both of us”.

He walked through the flames smoothly and made it to the inside of the ring unscathed, if thoroughly frozen. He saw Sarah in the middle of the fiery circle, curled up on her left side, sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling steadily, her head pillowed on her elbow and her long, black hair floating around her. There were no bruises, or tubes or wailing machines nowhere near this version of Sarah _(her imprint),_ and Kermit fell to his knees at the sight of his alive, unharmed wife.

It was a gift from the gods, indeed.

He tried to run to her, but he lacked the strength to stand, so he crawled towards her haphazardly on all fours, crying and laughing and heaving at the same time. He took her left hand carefully, careful not to dislodge her sleeping head, and slipped the ring on her finger.

Sarah didn’t stir.

Kermit sat back on his heels and blinked, confused.

“Now what?” he asked out loud, but all he got in response was the sizzling of the cold flames around them.

Well, Kermit mused, a million Disney films couldn’t be wrong, so he moved forward on all fours and placed a soft kiss on Sarah’s lips. He sat back again. Still nothing.

“This is unbelievable”, Kermit muttered angrily, “when we get back, I am _so_ going to _kill_ Caine. Sweetcakes!” he shook her shoulder, “wake up already, won’t you?”

Nothing.

Kermit, feeling equal parts annoyed and worried, crawled around his sleeping wife trying to think of something else to do. Now he sort of regretted making that jibe before entering the ring about Sarah singing _Heil Dir, Sonne,_ the scene of Brünnhilde’s awakening, so powerfully depicted by the main characters in Wagner’s opera: Sarah might pull off the part of the dramatic soprano, because she certainly had the pipes to give Kirsten Flagstad a run for her money, but he, Kermit, couldn’t sing to save his life, much less Sarah’s, so he sincerely hoped singing wasn’t required to  bring Sarah back from the Bardo, because they most likely would remain stuck in that world forever.

 _Well, maybe there is something in your voice, get my drift, Snow White_? He remembered Katya speaking to Sarah after her moving performance at their wedding.

“Shit”, Kermit snarled out loud, and he thought he heard someone laugh, very far away.

And then, just like that, he got it. He gave a small smile, the same wolfish grin that had won Sarah’s heart, and began to whistle to _Lohengrin,_ the nameless Knight sent to rescue a damsel in a _swan-drawn_ boat.

_Where are the cygnets?_

_Bryn._

_Mama._

 

Sarah’s eyes began to flutter.

“Yes!” cried Kermit, and picking her up from the ground, he tried to walk out through the flames… only to find they had solidified and wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, _come ON!”_ Kermit bellowed, at the end of his wits. “Caine, I’ve got her, let us out of here!”

Suddenly, something rolled out from the folds of Sarah’s robe and clinked dully when it hit the ground. Kermit, not daring to relinquish his hold on Sarah, crouched laboriously with his wife still in his arms and very carefully, extended his right hand, felt around on the ground and picked up the small object. He straightened up with a grunt and held it up to examine it closely. It was a crooked, charred piece of metal.

“What the—” Kermit whispered, just as the flames unfroze unexpectedly; Kermit, wasting no time, walked through them and out of the circle, still carrying Sarah in his arms.

“That is mine”, said a new voice as soon as they reached the other side.

“Oh, for the love of peace, _now_ what?” growled Kermit. He deposited Sarah carefully on the grass and turned to face the owner of the voice.

Unlike Sarah, whose Bardo version looked healthy and unharmed —albeit still exceedingly sluggish—¸ this version of Hagen Völsung didn’t do him any favors. A rosy, murky liquid oozed constantly through a deep gash in his skull, and his features seemed to be melting and rearranging endlessly. His skin looked pasty and clammy, and his teeth were beginning to rot.

“She did this to me”, Hagen said painstakingly. 

“Oh, I think you’ll find you did this to yourself”, Kermit replied.

“Splitting hairs, Griffin, as usual…” said Hagen, “I see you haven’t managed to die yet”.

Kermit shrugged.

“Did you want something?”

“That”, Hagen pointed to Kermit’s hand, “you have something that is mine”.

“What, this piece of junk?” asked Kermit, suddenly understanding he was holding in his hand the charred remains of the ring George had stolen from Hagen.

“Yes. That is… my last chance. My way out”, said Hagen thickly.

“Oh, does Gollum want his Precious back?” taunted Kermit, privately thinking his inner Jim seemed to flourish in the Bardo. Hagen bared his ruined teeth and lunged for the ring, but Kermit snatched it away.

“Ah, ah, ah! Bad Gollum, very bad Gollum!” he said mockingly, “You do realize you have no body to go back to, don’t you?” he added, conversationally.

Hagen let out a horrible guffaw.

“I will use hers”, he said.

“Like hell you will!” yelled Kermit.

“You don’t have a say in it”, Hagen informed him, “the body belongs to whoever manages to return first. Now, give me the ring”.

 _God damn it, Caine, I told you to destroy it,_ Kermit thought, conveniently choosing to forget he had needed the ring to walk out from the flames, and by the looks of it, they would also need it to get the hell out of the Bardo.

“Won’t we ever catch a break”, Kermit muttered, and he knelt next to Sarah, who was almost asleep again. Kermit huffed.

 “Oh, but _of course_ she is!” he said out loud, almost pulling out his hair in frustration: “come on, Sweetcakes, don’t go back to sleep, you need to wake up, we need to get the hell out of here now, do you hear me? Come on!” he shook her shoulder, “Sweetcakes, you heard the ring wraith here, you can’t let him beat you to your own body! Sweetcakes, come _on,_ I don’t want to be married to _him!”_ he added, horrified, suddenly realizing all the implications of Völsung’s snatching of Sarah’s body.

He thought he heard Sarah chuckle at that, and it was enough for him. With one last effort, he bent to pick Sarah up but then a very bright light blinded him, almost making him drop her; the ring fell from his hand and rolled towards Hagen, while Kermit looked wildly in every direction searching for it; suddenly, his mouth hung open in horror: Völsung seemed to flicker in the air, as if somehow he was _less_ there than before, and Kermit howled when he realized he was transitioning out of the Bardo and into Sarah’s body. Kermit launched himself forward, carrying Sarah over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and grabbed nothing but thin air.

“No, no, motherfucker, don’t you dare!” Kermit yelled.

Völsung let out a pained howl, and the blinding light seemed to pierce him, tearing him apart at the seams; he dissolved into nothingness and the air smelled of burnt sage. Kermit stared with wide eyes, but didn’t allow what he had just witnessed to petrify him; he was, after all, an ex-mercenary who had been trained to compartmentalize and keep moving no matter how traumatized, so bent down to pick up the broken ring, he grabbed Sarah’s limp hand swiftly and pressed the piece of metal against her palm with his, and he wasn’t really surprised when a lighting erupted from their entwined hands.

“CAINE, WOULD YOU GIVE ME A HAND HERE!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he fell through a dark, swirling void, holding onto Sarah for dear life.


	31. Chapter 31

Kermit was lying flat on his back on the cold tile floor of the ICU.

Feet stepped urgently all around him, hurrying forward and back again as their owners carried things towards the bed his wife occupied. A loud, constant beep filled the room and scattered orders could be heard somewhere above Kermit. He crawled quietly out of the way and joined Caine, who was waiting in a corner of the room.

“What the hell is happening?” asked Kermit in a hushed voice.

“They had to… resuscitate her”, Caine replied, and Kermit blanched. “I believe it was… their intervention…” Caine shrugged in the direction of the medical crew, “that severed Völsung’s connection with Sarah’s body”.

“Wait, so, you knew what was going on? What am I saying, of course you knew”, Kermit said, rolling his eyes, “But… what about Sarah? Is she still… _up there?”_

Caine shook his head.

“No”, he said quietly.

“Wait, wait, _wait_ , she is fighting the tube!” hollered Frankie over the ruckus, “stop that, Coulson, can’t you see she’s awake?!”

The doctor named Coulson stopped chest compressions and Frankie spoke loudly and slowly to Sarah:

“Sarah, listen to me, we are going to take the tube out, Ok? Hold still and try to hold your breath for me, alright? Ready? One… two… three… now!”

Sarah looked at Frankie with watery, terrified eyes, and nodded. Frankie pulled gently until he extracted the tube from Sarah’s trachea and mouth; Sarah sputtered and wheezed, taking a huge gulp of air, her eyes still streaming and her face red. She coughed some more, closed her eyes and took a hand to her belly, feeling around for a bump that had almost disappeared. She whimpered when she found no swelling and her eyes snapped open.

“B— Babies…” she croaked, her voice hoarse and harsh both from lack of use and from the irritation produced by the tube that had been stuck down her throat for weeks, “Kermit… where—?”

“They’re fine, Kiddo”, Frankie told her, smiling through genuine tears of joy, “the babies are in the NICU, you’re also in the ICU, see? And Kermit is over there, do you see him? Kermit, come closer!” Frankie exclaimed, motioning for Kermit to approach them, which he did diffidently, almost blinded by tears.

Frankie cleared his throat and with a discreet gesture, he signaled at the crash team and at Caine to make themselves scarce, so as to allow the couple some privacy.

In the meantime, Sarah looked at Kermit in silence, held up her arms weakly, and Kermit threw himself into her embrace, sobbing raggedly.  Sarah, quite teary-eyed herself, held his head to her chest, running her fingers through his thick hair, and soothed him until his cries subsided.

“I told you I wasn’t made of glass, Siegfried”, she rasped gently. Kermit gave a dry laugh that morphed into a pained sob, and kissed her on her protruding collarbone.

“I am… like one of Bailey’s chew-toys…” Sarah went on throatily, “I can… take a pounding”.

“Oh, Sweetcakes…” sighed Kermit against her chest, still a bit overwhelmed but relishing nonetheless in the sound of her heartbeat so close to his ear.

“God… my breath must stink…” Sarah murmured, “Would that stop you… from kissing your wife?”

Kermit straightened up immediately and cupped Sarah’s face in his large hands, staring deeply into the grey-blue eyes he’d thought he’d never see again. Slowly, he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss in Sarah’s chapped lips. She closed her eyes and he felt her smile against his mouth. Yes, her breath did stink, but Kermit could not have cared less.

“Oh, I needed that…” she murmured happily. She tried to lift a hand to touch his hair, but she could only hold it up for a few seconds before it flopped back to her side limply. Her eyes drifted shut of their own volition, and she struggled to open them very unsuccessfully.

“Get some rest, Sweetcakes”, he said, caressing her forehead softly, “you’ve been through quite an ordeal and you need to get better so you can meet the Muppets”.

Sarah opened one eye.

“What did you name them?” she asked warily.

Kermit laughed heartily for the first time in weeks.

“I didn’t”, he answered, “I knew it was in my best interest to wait until you woke up”.

Sarah smiled gently and Kermit could have framed that smile and keep it in his heart forever, dry, cracked lips and all.

“Thank you”, she murmured, taking his hand to her lips. “How are they?”

“They’re doing just fine, they’re actually expected to leave the NICU later this week”.

Sarah smiled again.

“How long… how long has it been since… since it happened?” she asked.

Kermit lowered his eyes.

“A month”, he said almost inaudibly.

“What?” breathed Sarah, “oh, God… How must you have felt!” she squeezed Kermit’s hand and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Oh, no, Sweetcakes, don’t do that”, Kermit said swiftly, “I mean, yes, I felt like crap, we all did, but it’s over now, I’ve got you now…”

It was Sarah’s turn to sob uncontrollably, and Kermit did his best to cradle her in his arms without dislodging the hoses and cables still attached to her. Again, she had managed to marvel him, only breaking down when thinking of _his_ feelings, not minding she was the one who had been in a comma for a month. _No wonder she is the Shield,_ Kermit thought absentmindedly.  And then he noticed something else: Sarah had now a white forelock of hair in her otherwise dark head, perfectly mirroring his own. Sarah slowly calmed down and turned to look at Kermit.

“What?” she asked.

“Your— your hair”, Kermit replied in a hushed voice, “a streak turned white, look”, and he grabbed a strand to show it to her.

Sarah smiled.

“Well, if we aren’t a Wagnerian _cliché”_ , she said.

Kermit chuckled as well.

“Have you… seen them? The babies, I mean?” she asked hoarsely.

Kermit shook his head.

“Only in a picture Frankie snapped for me”, Kermit said and reached for his worn-out wallet, “look, I used to bring it with me every day when Frankie snuck me into the ICU so I could see you”.

“Frankie snuck you in?” Sarah frowned, “why would he sneak you in? There are visiting hours”.

Kermit could have slapped himself.

“Er… yeah, there are, but Frankie let me in for a little extra time”, he said, lamely.

“Frankie isn’t even assigned to the ICU…” Sarah said, “What are you not telling me?”

Kermit sighed. He really couldn’t put anything past her.

“Later, Sweetcakes, I promise”, he said at last, “Right now you need to rest, and I don’t want to risk a relapse by upsetting you”.

Sarah arched her eyebrows.

“Man, will the soap opera never end”, she said and closed her eyes again, only to open them suddenly as if she’d remembered something.

“Kermit”, she asked timidly. “Did they tell you… the surgeons, or Frankie, I mean… Did they tell you what happened to my— well— do I still have my uterus?”

It was Kermit’s turn to kiss her hand.

“Yes, you do, Sweetcakes. They repaired the tear, Frankie told me as soon as you were out of surgery”.

“Oh, I see. So it did tear…” Sarah said softly, “I knew I wasn’t being a crybaby”.

Kermit pressed his lips to her hand again.

“You were and still remain one of the bravest women I have ever met”, he said, solemnly.

“Why thank you, Siegfried! That means a lot”, she murmured, and then added, in typical Sarah fashion: “well, let’s hope we don’t trigger another prophecy with the next one!”


	32. Chapter 32

Sarah was deemed apt to be moved to a ward two days later. By Denning’s intercession, she was given a private, luxurious room usually reserved for local politicians and celebrities, all complete with a small lounge and even a mini fridge, well stock-up with iced water and fresh fruit. Kermit bristled every time he walked through the threshold and remembered who was behind it, but refrained from commenting, for Sarah’s sake. He had pooled all of the sick days he had never used so that he could remain by Sarah’s side twenty-four hours a day; and though the rest of the family came to relieve him twice a day so he could shower and catch some shuteye, he could usually be found sitting in the recliner chair closest to Sarah’s bed, not taking an eye off of her.

He ended up telling Sarah about the investigation surrounding her attack, and although he hadn’t mentioned Denning’s involvement in the accusations, he could tell she suspected something. She let it pass without much argument, though, focusing instead in her physical therapy, intent on regaining full use of her limbs so that she could be taken to the NICU to finally meet her babies. She was still too weak to leave her bed and the doctors had said they couldn’t risk it, so Sarah spent her first days out of the ICU watching the worn-out picture of the Muppets that Kermit carried in his wallet and gritting her teeth when she set about the task of setting her body back into motion.

It was no easy job, either; her arms and legs were currently weak and emaciated from lack of use and the physical trauma she’d been through, and getting them back into shape was easier said than done, and Kermit’s heart ached when he watched his wife wobble around the room with the aid of a walker, crying in frustration when she wheezed and keeled over after just a few steps… which didn’t stop her from trying again a few hours later, each time making slow but steady progress. Her mental state was another thing entirely; while nothing overtly emotional transpired during the day, it was at night when her monsters roamed free, and Kermit had spent more than one night curled up beside her on the hospital bed, holding her close to him and soothing her out of a nightmare. He always managed to return to his own recliner before the nurse walked in with Sarah’s morning medication but, after one particularly rough night, he slept through his alarm and well into the wee hours of the morning. He opened his eyes slowly, thinking, as he always did, that he needed to get out of bed before the nurse walked in, but Sarah was holding onto him for dear life, even in her sleep, so he was left loath to move. The door opened in that very same minute, catching Kermit off-guard, and he could not hide his awkwardness as a pretty brown-haired nurse walked in pushing a wheelchair and stopped dead at the sight of them.

“Um— Good morning”, she said. “I came for… Doctor Greene”.

“Good morning”, Kermit replied, a little stiffly. “As you can see, though, she is asleep”.

He felt a soothing hand on his chest and Sarah’s hoarse voice say:

“I’m up, I’m up… Hiya, Cynthia”.

“Hello, Doctor Greene, I was hoping I’d be assigned to this ward so I could see you and offer my congratulations!  Dr. O’Reilly just cleared you and I will take you to see the babies now if you feel up to it”.

A myriad of emotions flooded Sarah’s face at those words.

“Really?” she asked tremulously, unwashed tears in her eyes, “Can he come too?” she added, signaling at Kermit. The pretty nurse eyed him thoughtfully and then nodded.

“Sure he can, these are special circumstances. Come on, let’s get you on the wheelchair”.

Sarah moved laboriously to leave the bed, and her face frowned in pain. Kermit, then, solved matters by jumping out of bed and gathering her in his arms to put her on the wheelchair as if she weighed nothing. He followed them down the halls, pushing around the tripod with Sarah’s IV fluids and blood bags, until they reached a glass door that said NICU in the same angry capital letters as its adult counterpart.

 

Cynthia gave them two surgical coats and caps, and mouth covers as well and waited until they put them on; she then opened the door and pushed Sarah’s wheelchair inside. Kermit followed them into a wide room full of plastic boxes containing babies connected to an assorted collection of hoses, wires, bottles and monitors. The room was brightly lit and nurses and doctors could be seen roaming around the boxes, peering at charts and examining babies all over. Cynthia stopped in front of two boxes right in the middle of the NICU and Kermit and Sarah really looked at their children for the first time since that fateful night when they had been born, and they couldn’t in all honesty find another baby in that NICU that could compare to their own, no matter how small and wrinkled.

Kermit’s chest expanded proudly and he sought Sarah’s hand with his. She circled his waist with her other arm and leaned her head on his hip.

“Couldn’t we put them in the same incubator?” she asked, suddenly.

“I— guess—”, one of the nurses said, looking at Sarah as if wondering how dared she give out suggestions.

“It has been demonstrated that premature twins that share incubators have a better outcome than those that do not”, Sarah said in a tone that Denning would have envied.

Kermit smiled behind his mouth cover. _You tell them, Sweetcakes,_ he thought.

The nurse frowned and then her expression cleared.

“Oh, my God! Doctor Greene! I am sorry, I didn’t—”

“That’s OK, Carla, I must look dreadful”, Sarah smiled.

“These are yours?” Carla asked, gleefully, “Boy, do they scream!”

Sarah and Kermit chuckled.

“I wonder who they get that from”, Sarah answered with undeniable pride, and then she gestured at Kermit. “Yes, they’re ours. Carla, meet my husband, Kermit Griffin”.

Carla eyed Kermit warily and then smiled graciously.

“My pleasure. Carla Cork’s the name. You’ll forgive me for not shaking hands, but we can’t in this place. I’ll see that they are put in the same incubator, Doctor Greene”.

“I would like to feed them”, Sarah said, “That is… assuming I still have milk?”

“Oh, yeah, we actually— um— extracted it while you were at the ICU. Most of the milk had to be thrown away, because of the meds and the fever and such, but we mostly did it so you’d keep producing it. Come on, let’s give it a try”.

Carla opened the nearer incubator with expert movements and took out the tiny bundle holding its head tenderly.

“We didn’t know their names”, Carla said, “But Frankie said you called them Fozzie and Gonzo, so… here’s Gonzo”, she added, blushing slightly as she handed him to Sarah.

 Sarah’s whole face lit up with joy, even as her eyes filled with tears. She kissed her son’s head softly and whispered:

“Hi, little guy! I’m your mama… Look what we made, Kermit, he looks just like you!”

Kermit wiped the tears off Sarah’s cheeks tenderly with his thumb as he bent to get a better glimpse of the baby boy, his heart aching fiercely: that was _his_ son right there, in his wife’s arms… at long last. He winked at Sarah when she looked at him, glowing through her tears, and they both looked at their child, who was wailing loudly in protest at the sudden loss of artificial warmth, swaying his little fists uncoordinatedly. He had but the slightest dusting of curly black hair, taken after both his parents, and his wrinkly face revealed he had also a strong temper indeed. He had very dark eyes, just like Kermit, shiny and unwavering, surrounded by thick dark lashes.

Sarah and Kermit were so enthralled observing their son they didn’t notice when Carla approached them holding the other baby.

“And here’s Fozzie”, she said softly, and Sarah handed the baby boy to Kermit so she could hold her.

Kermit took hold of their child awkwardly, listening to Sarah and watching his head indeed, and as he looked at their daughter his jaw dropped, unable to believe she was a living creature. She was minuscule, even smaller than little Gonzo, and she was as pale-skinned as Sarah was. She barely had hair, but the delicate wisps that covered her little head were of the same blueish-black as Sarah’s thick tresses. She was screeching her little lungs off, quite effectively in fact.

 _Mama_ , said the little girl from his dream in his head; _Bryn._

 “She looks like an angel…” Sarah murmured ecstatic, kissing the perfect little black head. The baby girl instantly calmed when she felt her mother’s lips on her head and opened her eyes. They were a little blurred, unlike her brother’s, but they showed an undeniable tendency to Sarah’s grayish blue.

“She’s all you, Sweetcakes”, Kermit said hoarsely.

“I know, right!” Carla said, moved almost to tears at the tender scene, “congratulations, they’re both gorgeous”.

Sarah thanked her and Carla gave Kermit a chair and retreated discreetly, leaving the new parents alone. Kermit sat next to Sarah holding the baby boy as she fed the girl, his awed gaze wandering from one baby to the other and to his wife’s elated face.

“We still need names for them”, Sarah observed, radiant with motherly pride, “and sadly, Bardolph and Dorcas didn’t make the cut”.

Kermit laughed.

“I was just trying to get you to wake up if only for you to harp at me”, he said cheekily.

“I don’t _harp!”_ Sarah laughed softly, because it still hurt every time she did anything else other than breathing, “When have I ever _harped_ at you, Detective?”

“I love you, Sweetcakes”, he said, and something in his tone made her cry again.

“I love _you”_ , she replied and squeezed his hand, “Bad taste in names and all”.

Kermit laughed. He very much wanted to kiss her, but all the medical paraphernalia was in the way, so he caressed her arm with his free hand, holding the baby in the crook of his arm. He thumped Kermit delicately with a tiny foot and Kermit smiled.

“Hitting your old man already, are we?” he said.

“I actually had my heart set on a name for little Gonzo”, Sarah said, “but I didn’t get a chance to tell you before. Want to hear it?”

“Of course I do”.

“I was thinking… Liam David”, Sarah said, and Kermit looked up from the contemplation of his son sharply, “you know, Liam after my Dad and—”

“Oh, Sweetcakes—” he managed, the knot in his throat firmly throttling his windpipe and his vocal cords. She wanted to name their son after his brother and his heart was going out to her.

“What do you think?” Sarah said, a hint of worry in her voice, “Do you like it?”

“Thank you, Sweetcakes… It means more to me than I could ever tell you”, he choked out.

Sarah squeezed his hand again and they fell silent for a bit.

“What about the little soprano?” Kermit said at last, “Will she be Sarah the Second?”

“Aw, no”, Sarah said, “She’s definitely not a Sarah” she looked down at the little girl in her arms, clinging to her mother’s hospital gown as she fed.

“What about Paula?” said Kermit suddenly and Sarah’s smile under the mouth cover reached her eyes.

“Paula! I like that, I like that a lot”, she approved.

“Bloody marvelous” Kermit said, mimicking Lo Si, “and, I was thinking, for a middle name we could use another variation… This time of Brünnhilde: Bryn”.

 _Bryn_ , the little girl’s voice echoed in his head.

“I love it! What about you, eh?” she said to the baby girl, “is your name Paula Bryn? Are you a little singing warrior?”

The little girl issued a loud wail and smiled vaguely.

“Well, that’s good enough for me”, Sarah said, “Paula Bryn Griffin. It does have a dashing ring to it, I gotta say. Hand Liam over, Handsome, I think she’s done here”.

Kermit and Sarah exchanged babies and as Liam fed, Kermit had the chance to examine their little girl, marveling at the perfection of her tiny body, her red lips, and her pale skin crisscrossed by purple delicate veins, touching her slender fingers as if fearing they’d break. _Hello, Babycakes… I also knew you before, in a dream_ , Kermit thought, _how about that._ He was tempted to turn her over to check if she had glossy black wings growing out of her back, but he refrained.

“You could try to burp her”, Sarah said, holding Liam in the crook of her arm as he suckled at her nipple.

“Should I dare?”

“Hey, you’d better, Siegfried! Remember there are two of them, we gotta act as a team or they’ll overthrow us!”

Kermit chuckled. Carla walked by to offer him a small square of sterile gauze, and Kermit put it on his right shoulder, holding her little head against his chest. He patted her back, gently, but firmly, like he’d done once or twice with Marilyn’s kids, and nearly tumbled Paula to the floor when she issued the most incredibly loud belch Kermit had ever heard.  Sarah laughed heartily.

“And that’s the Griffin gene right there! She sounded just like Jim!” she exclaimed, and Kermit joined her in her laughter.

“Don’t let your Grandma hear you, Babycakes”, Kermit said to Paula, “she’ll have a stroke”.

Sarah was still laughing and Kermit felt, not for the first time either, that it was a sight he could behold forever. He also burped Liam, who turned out to be as noisy as his sister, and soon enough they had to leave the NICU, reluctantly all right, but with the promise they’d be able to return in three hours so that Sarah could feed the twins.

 

~*~

 

Sarah was dozing off in her hospital bed when the door creaked open. She opened her eyes drowsily, half expecting to see a male nurse with a syringe in his hand. _No… that happened already,_ her half-asleep mind informed her. Sarah’s hand inched closer to the call button, but she stopped in mid-motion when she saw that it was Captain Simms who had just walked in. She still moved a little stiffly, and she carried a big gift box in her hands.

“Good evening, Miss—Mrs. Griffin”, she said politely, “Did I wake you?”

“Oh— um— no, you didn’t. I was just… resting my eyes”, Sarah said somewhat lamely.

“Are you all alone?”

“Yes, Kermit just went home to shower and get some sleep”.

“I take it he didn’t go easily”, Captain Simms said with a light smile.

“He never does”, Sarah agreed, “Paul and Jim practically drag him out each time. Please, Captain Simms, have a seat”.

Captain Simms sat down primly in the chair next to Sarah’s bed.

“I just wanted to drop by and offer my congratulations”, she said, “And also… I wanted to thank you for saving my life”.

Sarah ogled at her, but Captain Simms wasn’t finished.

“I also wanted to apologize for my behavior at that restaurant. I was shocked, of course, there’s no point in denying it, but that didn’t give me the right to act the way I did. I am sorry, Mrs. Griffin”, she concluded, and held out her hand to Sarah, who took it numbly.

“I don’t remember you being rude, Captain”, Sarah said truthfully, “you were surprised, but who wouldn’t have been? But you weren’t rude, at all. And you actually stood in my defense when the man demanded that I go with him”.

“Oh, well, that’s my job”, Karen said dismissively, “but thank you for not considering me rude. I rather thought I was”.

“That’s because you haven’t met my mother”, Sarah said with a small smile, which Karen mirrored.

“I was also told you performed the procedure that saved my life at that restaurant”, Karen went on, “even at the cost of your own health”.

“Yeah, that’s what I do”, Sarah replied, echoing Karen’s previous statement.

 _“Touché”_ , the Captain said, “anyway, I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am”.

“It was all my pleasure, Captain”.

“Karen, please”.

“Karen. And I’m Sarah”.

“Sarah”. Karen remained silent for a moment and then continued: “How are the babies doing?”

Sarah’s face lit up like it always did when someone mentioned the Muppets.

“Oh, they’re doing great! Thank you for asking. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be going home before I am”.

“Let’s hope you can all go home together”, Karen said, “have you named them, yet?”

“Yes, we finally got around to do it… They’re called Liam and Paula”.

Karen smiled warmly.

“Great names”, she observed.

“After both my Dads”, Sarah said.

“I’m sorry?”

“They didn’t tell you?” Sarah asked, surprised, “I’m— I’m Paul Blaisdell’s biological daughter”.

Karen’s jaw hung open in shock.

“No, they most certainly did _not_ tell me _that!”_ she almost screeched, “If that man isn’t full of surprises!”

“Well, they must have assumed you knew already”, Sarah said, “and tell me about it, this year has been one huge surprise after the next”.

“So I’ve heard”, said Captain Simms, “not that I was prying or anything”, she added hastily, “it’s just that my precinct was in charge of the investigation surrounding your… kidnapping”.

“Oh, I see”, Sarah said quietly. “Who accused Kermit of beating me up? He won’t tell me”.

“Richard Denning, M.D., Dean of Medicine of County General”, Karen told her.

“Oh, I should have known! I’ll kill him”, Sarah said in an angry voice.

 “You’ll have to get in line”, Karen said amusedly, “Kermit called dibs, if I am not mistaken”.

Sarah chuckled.

“Of course he did”.

“Denning had your best interests at heart”, Karen said, “they all did. And Dr. Sabourin was the one to file the actual report, and she never said she suspected Kermit… she limited herself to report the assault, as she should have”.

“I know… I would have done the same thing. But, honestly, that someone would _even consider_ that Kermit—”

“Those of us who know him didn’t believe that for a second”, Karen said, “Still, we had to follow through with the investigation to clear his name beyond reasonable doubt”.

“Thank you”, Sarah said.

“There’s nothing to thank me for”, Karen said, “we take care of our own”, and she patted Sarah’s hand in reassurance: “There was never anything between us”, said Karen abruptly, “I mean, I had hoped there would be, but on the whole, we never went beyond some flirting and maybe—”

Sarah held up her hand hastily.

“You _really_ don’t have to explain yourself to me”, she said emphatically.

“Well, that’s very gracious of you”, Karen said, “you’re a remarkable young woman, I hope you know that”.

Sarah blinked, rather taken aback, and mumbled a “thank you”.

“You are, you mark my words”, Karen insisted, “I was privy to the details of your delivery, and believe me, not everyone could’ve handled all that”.

 _“All_ of the details?” Sarah asked hoarsely.

“Well, pretty much, yes”, Karen said, “of course, the great majority of them were disclosed to me off-record… and I take it something similar happened the day I managed to shoot myself with my own sidearm”.

Sarah nodded slowly.

“What exactly happened, if may I ask?” Karen said.

“You know who Caine is, don’t you?”

“Do I ever! The man is a crime magnet”, Karen exclaimed, “Wherever he is, something awful and usually inexplicable happens”.

“Exactly! Well, shortly after I became pregnant, I developed this— power of sorts”, Sarah said with a faint blush, “Caine made sure it would happen by getting Kermit and myself Bonded in… well… another plane of existence”.

“Shambhala”, said Karen.

“Yeah, how’d you—?”

“I was there, briefly, a couple of years ago”.

“Of course you were. Caine should sell tours”, Sarah said, and Karen snorted. Sarah certainly gave Kermit a run for his money in the cynicism department.

“So, anyway, I developed his power, and it took the better part of my pregnancy just to learn how to control it”.

“What does it do?”

Sarah waved the hand without an IV in front of her, and the empty plastic jug did a cartwheel in mid-air, landing quietly on top of the overbed table. Karen stared, unable to help it.

“It’s some sort of telekinesis, I think. I’d hoped it would go away after I gave birth”, Sarah said quietly, “no such luck, apparently”.

“You don’t want it?” Karen said.

“I could live without it”, Sarah admitted, “Anyway, it took me a little over seven months just to learn how to do that”, she pointed at the jug, “usually I just blew up stuff at random. So Caine taught me how to harness it, and… that day at the restaurant I managed to project a shield between us and the assailants. That was the first time I got it right, actually”.

“I see”, said Karen thoughtfully, “I noticed there’s a bodyguard outside your door”, she added, meaning Katya, “and I also know that Atherton and Straker are still at large”.

“Not Straker”, said Sarah in a hushed voice, “To quote Jim, I nuked his ass”.

“Oh, right, the pile of ashes!” Karen exclaimed, “Peter told me… off-record, of course!”

“Thank God for that”.

“Hey, it was legitimate self-defense, my dear girl, no jury would convict you”.

“They wouldn’t dare”, Sarah said thoughtfully, “I might just do the same to them, right?”

“Exactly”, said Karen, standing up, “well, I must let you rest”; her eyes went to the gift box still in her hands, “oh, I almost forgot! I also wanted to give you this”.

“Oh, Karen, you really shouldn’t have!”

“Nonsense”, Karen said with a broad smile, “it was all my pleasure; besides, it turned out to be a wonderful therapy to regain full use of my arm. Go on, open it, open it”, she urged Sarah, “I realize you must have lots of them already, not to mention the original, but this one is hand-made”.

Sarah opened the box and extricated a medium-sized, plushy, crocheted Kermit the Frog, complete with knitted-in sunglasses and a wolfish grin.

“Oh, this is _adorable!”_ Sarah exclaimed happily, “Thank you very much indeed!”

Karen smiled at her. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had accepted a gift from her with such open delight.

“I am glad you liked it”, she said, “Well, Sarah, I must be off. Thank you again for… everything, and remember you’ve got a friend in me”, she leaned in and kissed Sarah on the cheek; “congratulations again. Give my best regards to Kermit”.

In that moment, the door opened and Jim walked in, dressed in his fatigues, a rucksack on his shoulder and his devilish smile firmly in place.

“Howdy, Mama!” he said cheerfully, “I just wanted to drop by to say good bye and thank you for everything! Oh—” he added, taking in Captain Simms’s presence for the first time: “Beg pardon, Ma’am, where are my manners? I am Major Jim Hellstrom, at your beckon”.

“Karen Simms”, she replied with a smile, “You must be General Hellstrom’s son, am I right?”

“No, Ma’am, I am General Hellstrom’s _nephew._ I am Kermit’s eldest biological son”.

“Oh, I gotta sit down”, Karen said weakly, flopping back into the chair she’d just vacated.

“They didn’t tell you that either?” exclaimed Sarah.

“No, they didn’t!”

“Well, you know what they say… once a mercenary…”

“…Always a mercenary”, Karen breathed. “But, I mean, Kermit must have been…”

“A snotnose”, Jim agreed happily, “I think he was 19 when I was born. He didn’t know then, of course, but he was a right little twerp.”

“And the— Your—?”

“The mama?” asked Jim, “This one here is my Mama as far as I am concerned!” and he hugged Sarah by the shoulders, “Well, except for my other Ma, of course… we know nuthin’ of the other one”.

Karen lowered her eyes.

“I am sorry”.

“Don’t be, I am not! I was angry for a very long time, but now I got all the family I could’ve asked for! Even a brother and a little sis! Which reminds me, Mama, I got these for them, just got them engraved”, and he held up a couple of dog tags with the babies’ names _and_ nicknames on them. Sarah laughed heartily.

“Aw, thank you, Jim, they’re the best!” she said.

“Mama here just welcomed me into the family no questions asked”, said Jim happily, “and no one knows better than she does the great feeling of being accepted into your biological family, ain’t I right, Mama?”

“Of course you are, sonny boy”, Sarah replied, and Jim glowed. He offered his arm to Captain Simms to escort her out of Sarah’s room, in a gesture eerily like Kermit’s own, but before Karen could take the proffered arm, they all heard a commotion just outside the door.

“Wait here”, said Jim somberly, and shifting into action mode, he rushed out the door and was faced with the sight of Kermit and Katya wrestling a man to the floor.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here, Jenner!” Kermit spat dangerously, clenching both the man’s wrists in his hand. He looked up, saw Jim on the threshold and added urgently: “Jim, get back in there and shut the door! Get Peter to send back-up now!”

“I wonder what that is about?” said Captain Simms, inching towards the door as she reached for the radio clipped to her belt: “this is Captain Karen Simms, requesting back up, room 5113, County General Hospital, I need you here Code 3, immediately”.

The radio crackled and an anonymous voice answered:

“Ten-four, Captain, they’re on their way”.

Karen clipped the radio to her belt, and drew her sidearm with her right hand, reaching for the doorknob with the left.

“I’ll just see what’s happening real quick and I’ll be back with you”, she said to Sarah, and then disappeared through the door.

“I just called for back-up, Kermit”, she informed him, “care to tell me what is going on?”

Kermit looked up from his prisoner, seemingly surprised at the sight of Karen emerging from Sarah’s bedroom with her gun drawn and at the ready. He nodded in silent thanks and made a gesture towards the man in the floor.

“Meet Jenner Atherton, Karen, our missing mercenary”, he said through gritted teeth.

Karen looked down at the man half-sprawled on the floor with both hands held against his back by Kermit’s furious grip and fought the urge to burst into laughter. Atherton looked nothing like she had pictured him in her mind after Kermit told her he was the original mastermind behind the whole mess that had almost gotten her and Sarah killed; Karen had rather envisioned Atherton as the archetypal Bond villain, a little quaint but classy, with witty one-liners and perhaps and eye-patch, yet Atherton looked exactly like Steve Urkel’s white uncle, right down to the over sized glasses, nothing in him hinting to his true nature except for his cold, forget-me-not blue eyes. Karen shook her head as if to clear it, and her attention was drawn to the last piece that complete the bizarre image before her: the remains of what had been an exquisite bouquet of red roses, that now lay broken and bruised on the floor next to both men. Karen raised her head, listening intently to the blaring sirens approaching.

“What do you want, Atherton?” barked Kermit impatiently, not relinquishing his grip on the man, “what’s with the flowers?”

Atherton looked up at the small gathering of people all pointing guns at him and rolled his eyes. He struggled some more, trying to break free from Kermit’s deadly grasp, to no avail. Just then, a young blond nurse passed them by and, staring at them with huge, frightened eyes, gave the group a wide berth and all but ran towards the nearest station. Minutes later, a Head nurse, escorted by two tall, burly orderlies, approached them.

“Put those away immediately! This is a hospital, for crying out loud!” the Head nurse barked with no preamble, and for a fragile looking woman in her mid-fifties, she sure carried a lot of authority, because Kermit, Katya, Jim and Karen eyed one another guiltily and holstered their weapons meekly. Kermit remained kneeling next to Atherton, though, not letting go of him.

Karen walked towards the nurse then and showed the older woman her badge.

“Captain Simms, 59th Precinct”, Karen identified herself, “this is a Police matter, ma’am”.

“Well, take it elsewhere”, replied the Head nurse, unfazed, “I won’t have you risking my patients or my staff”.

Caine appeared just then on the hallway, followed swift by the backup requested by Captain Simms. Katya snorted, unable to help it.

“Blimey, this guy is a pest! There is no getting rid of him!”

“What’s wrong, Caine?” Kermit asked from the floor, and added, recklessly: “Did you sense a disturbance in the Force?”

Caine blinked and stared at Kermit, obviously not getting the jibe, just as Jim, Katya and even Karen broke in half-suppressed giggles.

“I… sensed the impending restoration… of the Balance between…Good and Evil”, said Caine and bowed.  Kermit looked at him and then at Jim, who was laughing like a loon next to Karen.

“Isn’t that what you just said?” he cackled and walked back into Sarah’s room, still roaring with laughter.

“We should all… follow Major Hellstrom”, Caine said then, supremely unconcerned by the exchange.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kermit bellowed, “I won’t let this scum anywhere near my wife!”

“He… has come to apologize”, said Caine, clearly thinking that changed everything. Kermit stared at him again, then turned to look at the roses scattered on the floor and finally his gaze rested on Atherton; he pinned the mercenary down for a second and then let out a neigh of laughter that could have been funny if it hadn’t been loaded with anger.

“Apology _not_ accepted”, Kermit barked airily when he regained a modicum of control, and for good measure, he applied some more pressure to Atherton’s already bruised wrists.

Caine strode forward and lifted Atherton effortlessly from the floor. Kermit sputtered, deprived of the power of speech, and Caine spoke over Kermit’s inarticulate noises, his mellow voice full of authority:

“This needs to be done, Kermit. There is much more at stake than your resentment and your anger. I have told you before, they shall consume you lest you rein in them”.

Indeed, Caine had said some variation of those words to Kermit almost three years ago, when he'd stopped Kermit from murdering Douglas Larson, David’s killer, in cold blood, and, as much as Kermit hated to admit it, he had been as right then as he was now. Still, what really stopped Kermit in his tracks was what Caine said next:

“Remember, Kermit… it is not only your Chi you would taint with such an action”.

And without further ado, he led the way towards Sarah’s room, urging Atherton to come forward. He signaled to the cops to stay behind, and Kermit, Katya, and Karen followed Caine and Atherton meekly. Kermit’s went to his wife’s side immediately, as if to shield her, though he knew, if worse came to worst, it would be the other way around for sure.

“Sarah”, said Caine briskly, completely at odds with his usual soft voice, “Mr. Atherton has come to restore Balance where it was lost. Some of his actions cannot be undone, and it is also not our place to pass judgement; still, he can prevent further damage by straightening the course he has taken. Would you be willing to listen to what he has to say?”

Sarah’s eyes went to Kermit, and he stepped closer to her, helping her to sit up on the bed, fluffing the pillows behind her. He touched her face gently and gave her a reassuring smile, taking her hand in his. He turned to look at Atherton defiantly, while Sarah fought off the need to burst into laughter. She didn’t know much about mercenaries, but she was sure apologies were not high in their list of qualities.

“For years, I have carried a grudge”, Atherton began without preamble, and his deep, elegant voice was a shocking contrast to his appearance, “for years I have mourned the loss of my brothers, my cousins, my uncles, to a senseless war which begun because of my thirst of power. I had deemed them innocent bystanders, collateral damage in all this… choosing to forget it had been me who asked them to join me, it had been me who led them astray”.

Kermit, Katya, Jim, Karen and Sarah exchanged looks. Caine remained impassive.

“So… I sought revenge”, continued Atherton, “and I went to great lengths to exact that revenge. I sacrificed many lives and I brought about my own ruin in the process” he raised his hands in a dramatic gesture: “I have now truly lost everything, and yet I remain; I have been showed how would it be to exist in nothingness, how would my existence be if reduced to a soulless wraith wandering in the Bardo forever”.

Kermit turned to look at Caine immediately.

“Did you do this?” he asked, “did you show him what became of Hagen?”

Caine nodded and bowed.

“I… did”, he replied.

“Yes”, added Atherton, “I got to see Hagen and what he had become before he was banished”, and he looked at both Kermit and Caine intently.

“Yes, well” said Kermit gruffly, “he tried to steal my wife’s body, so…”

Sarah’s eyes widened at that.

“What?” she yelped, and she was echoed by Katya, Karen and Jim’s surprised cry.

“He tried to exit the Bardo and return to this life using Sarah’s body”, Kermit said tiredly, “but then, in this dimension, the medical team used a defibrillator on Sarah and that um— severed the connection… and Hagen disappeared”.

The room was very quiet all of a sudden.

“He had his reckoning”, said Atherton, “I do not blame any of you for what happened to him. He chose his own path, unlike his brother, whose path I skewed, whose life I sacrificed to darkness. I understand now that vengeance only returns upon the one who is consumed by it”.

Kermit inhaled sharply, as those were the exact words Caine had once said to him, when he stopped Kermit for the first time in that half destroyed hotel in Florida from exacting cold-blooded revenge on his brother’s murderer: _Larson is a killer in his heart,_ Caine had said, _you are not._

The room remained dead silent, its occupants trying to process what they had just heard. Sarah grimaced and massaged the side of her neck, quickly arranging her features to a neutral expression when she realized everyone’s attention was now focused on her.

 _Oh, god, I don’t have to give an acceptance speech, do I?_   she thought wildly, and heard Kermit laugh through his nose. Apparently, besides her magic, their mental connection also lingered. Sarah sighed deeply and spoke, her voice still a little raspy:

“I don’t think that in my wildest dreams I would have considered the events of this past year even remotely possible”, she said, “and I must admit that, for a long time, I also bore you a grudge for disrupting our lives so thoroughly, and for getting people I care about hurt. I just— I cannot fathom the existence of such greed that would consume a man to the point of stepping over other human beings, I cannot empathize with such thirst of power… However… by setting on your path of revenge, you also set an array of things into motion, things that were designed to happen someday anyway, which makes me wonder whether you were just a pawn in all of this, like the rest of us, and you were just— given the short end of the stick and nothing more. And then I tell myself that it couldn’t be, because that would completely override our free will, so…” Sarah shrugged, “I just don’t know, and I am still reeling from everything that happened, and all I really want right now is to put it past us so that we can move on, so…” she held out her hand to Atherton, dimly hearing Kermit’s sharp intake of breath: “truce?”

Atherton smiled lightly, stepped forward and held out his hand as well.

“Peace”, he said, and the moment he grasped Sarah’s hand in his several things happened at the same time: the lights went out suddenly and a strong wind swirled around the room, a cold, wailing wind that seemed to emerge directly from Atherton and Sarah’s clasped hands, which shone brightly in the otherwise dark room. A strange, ruffling noise was heard, and Kermit, even though he couldn’t see it, was the first one to realize what had just happened: Sarah had grown back her feathery wings and her eyes began to shine with a yellow glow that effectively lit the room they were in.

“Holy mother of God”, whispered Jim from a corner.

Atherton grew darker as Sarah grew brighter, a soft glimmering light irradiating from her skin, shifting and curling in capricious shapes; and soon the stark contrast between them became interconnected, giving rise to one another as the light brought about the shadow. The wind reached its peak just as a melodic aria filled the air, bringing about the same feeling Kermit had experienced in both Shambhala and the Bardo: too intense, too bright, too big for words, this raw, magnified and unspeakably beautiful feeling that surrounded them all.

It was over then, and Atherton and Sarah let go of each other a little awkwardly, while the remaining occupants of the room reeled from what they had just witnessed.

“The wholeness of the yin-yang has been completed”, said Caine then, “the Balance… has been restored”.

And Kermit couldn’t help but add _sotto voce:_

“For now”.

 

 


	33. Epilogue.

Brookside was alight with laughter and music; the crickets chirped merrily in the woods surrounding the house and a cool, fragrant breeze blew through the trees and made the _papier-mâché_ ornaments flap rhythmically. Groups of beautifully arranged tables stood underneath cream-colored awnings, and strategically placed jack-o-lanterns cast a soft glow in the calm October evening.  No one seemed to mind the rapidly descending temperature, though, and the garden Halloween Party was in full swing, with more guests arriving by the minute.

The laughter of the children was music for Kermit’s ears; he watched indulgently as Jossie, Liam and Paula chased after Bailey, trying with all their might to put a paper crown on the dog’s head. Sarah had dressed them in matching white tunics and leather sandals, and had completed their Halloween costumes with a couple of black, feathery wings, and the resemblance to the children in Kermit’s almost forgotten dream was eerie. Jossie, dressed as a multicolored clown, bossed her little cousins around with the same attitude her older sister had, but the twins were having none of it, each expressing their displeasure in their own unique way: Paula, being the strong-willed, opinionated girl that she was, argued through each and every one of Jossie’s suggestions, while Liam, for his part, silently analyzed the exchange and did only what he felt like doing and nothing else.

“So like his Daddy, isn’t he?” said Sarah softly, coming to stand next to where Kermit was sitting.

“And so like her Mama”, Kermit retorted, lifting his head to look at her, smiling at her costume. She had chosen to dress like Elliot carrying E.T. on his bike, and she had donned an over sized red hoodie with the face of the blue eyed alien artfully painted by Mitch appearing to come out of the front pocket.

“Where’s your basket, Elliot?” he asked amusedly.

“Oh, I left it somewhere over those tables, I think”, Sarah answered, mirroring his smile.

“And how are you feeling?”

“Wonderful”, Sarah replied heartily, patting at her burgeoning belly, which served as E.T.’s face for the time being, “now _this_ is how a pregnancy is supposed to feel like”.

Kermit smiled and pressed a kiss to her belly.

“Nonetheless, try and keep away from Caine, won’t you?”

Sarah laughed out loud.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry”, she said, “I see you aren’t wearing a costume”.

“Oh, yeah, I am! I am a mercenary, see?” he said, and he lifted his dark sunglasses to wink at her. She pressed a kiss to his nose.

“So I can see. Oh, look! Here comes Jim now!”

“Mommy, Mommy, Jimmy is HEEREEE!” screeched Paula delightedly, nearly puncturing the eardrums of everyone within reach of her mighty Valkyrie war cry: the little tot certainly had inherited her mother’s pipes as well as her looks, Kermit thought amusedly. He watched her trot towards her older brother with swift steps, yelling as she went: “Piggyback, Jimmy, piggyback _pleaaaase!”_

Jim lifted the little girl in the air and swirled her around a few times before setting her safely over his shoulders.

“Aw, my little Fozzie, I _missed_ you! Did you miss me?”

“I’ve _told_ you a thousand times, don’t call me Fozzie, Jimmy”, she said sternly, her grey-blue eyes steely.

“Gimme a kiss, then”.

Paula pressed a kiss on top of her brother’s head and nudged him on with her little feet.

“Go on, horsey, faster, faster!”

Jim trotted obediently with Paula on piggyback and Liam and Jossie trailing behind him.

“I want piggyback too, Jimmy!” Liam wailed, clinging to Jim’s left leg.

“I’ll go first, I am bigger than you!” screeched Jossie from the right leg.

“Come on, you little trolls, let the poor man walk!” exclaimed Mitch gleefully around a mouthful of cotton candy.  She was dressed as a cow girl and was sporting the brand new tattoo she had gotten right after her eighteenth birthday a couple of months ago. Sarah had helped her choose it and now she had a beautiful multicolored owl imprinted on her left shoulder. She approached her cousins and took Liam in her arms so as to give him a piggyback ride, but Liam wasn’t fooled.

“I want JIMMY!” he bellowed.

Jim reached Sarah and Kermit with a smile on his face.

“Whew!” he said, putting a very reluctant Paula back on the ground, “they’re a handful, ain’t they?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Kermit heartily, “I can’t imagine how’s it going to be with three of them”.

“No twins this time?” asked Jim irreverently.

“Bite your tongue! Just the one!” screeched Kermit and Sarah almost at the same time.

Jim chortled.

“OK, then!” he said, “and do we know the gender yet?”

“Yes, it’s a girl”, Sarah replied with a sweet smile.

“Well, now you have two of each!” said Jim gleefully, “and do we have a name this time or we will have to wait a month after she’s born?” he cheeked them.

“Lorelei”, answered Kermit and Sarah in unison.

Jim stared at them. He wasn’t all that well versed in Germanic mythology, but if memory served, Lorelei was the name of a water spirit, akin to a siren, who lured sailors to their death… with her beautiful singing voice. And, even though Jim didn’t know all the details of Kermit’s infamous dream and his subsequent voyage to the Bardo to bring Sarah back, he knew enough to understand why they had chosen that particular name.

“Well, I find it frightfully fitting, I gotta say”, said Jim at last.

“It is indeed”, said Rykker then, who had approached them after depositing a beautifully wrapped box on the gift table.

“I see you finally got around to going to Maui for that long overdue honeymoon”, added Rykker, eyeing Sarah’s belly delightedly.

Kermit blushed like a radish, Jim roared with laughter and Sarah simply thanked Rykker politely:

“Yes, thank you, Mr— Um, Gerald”, she corrected herself in time, “we had a lovely time”.

Rykker bowed to her.

“It was all my honor and my pleasure, as it will be to be godfather to the youngest Griffin”, he said ceremoniously, “So! No curses, new bouts of magic or anything of the sort so far?”

Sarah denied with her head.

“I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but, so far…”

Rykker made an expressive gesture of agreement.

“Katya sends her regards and most humble apologies, by the way”, he said, “she tried her best but she just couldn’t make it”.

Sarah nodded. She and Katya would never be best chums, but after all they had been through they had reached some sort of truce, and she and Kermit had even been invited to Katya’s recent wedding to a British aristocrat some months prior and now she was busy traveling the world with her beau, her mercenary life forgotten in favor of the family she never knew she wanted until she saw Sarah getting one of her own.

“If you manage to see her, do tell her she’s always welcome at Brookside, Gerald, please, as are you”, Sarah said at last.

“I shall, of course, and much obliged”, Rykker replied, bowing again.

Sarah let her gaze roam around the woods surrounding her beautiful house and sighed contentedly at the sight that met her eyes: both sets of grandparents on her side could be seen doting on their grandchildren, Paul and William even rolling laboriously on the grass with the twins and laughing as if they didn’t fear they’d break a hip; Marilyn kept an endless supply of healthy snacks for the kids nearby, and she had furtively confiscated their candy bags so that they wouldn’t OD on sweets. Jason, Marilyn’s eldest, had made a special appearance, taking time out of college to be at his twin cousins’ fifth birthday party. He had hit it off with Jim from day one, and they both surprised the guests with an impromptu jam session, Jason turning out to be extremely proficient with the keyboards.

Skalany and Caine walked through the woods hand in hand, totally oblivious to the rest of the party; Peter and Jody made their entrance just then, eliciting awed whispers from the little crowd that had gathered for the occasion. They had been together for the past two years, and it was about freaking time already, as Sarah had pointed out when they finally announced their relationship. They were currently expecting their first child together, with Sarah and Jody’s due dates being actually only two weeks apart. Jody’s happiness was so palpable it actually irradiated from her and made anyone around her giddy. It was beautiful, in Sarah’s opinion.

“Everything looks incredible, Sarah!” Jody exclaimed when they reached Kermit and Sarah to greet them, “thank you for having us! Oh, and don’t forget, Katherine’s baby shower is next week!”

Katherine had been Peter’s mother’s middle name, and it was also the one Jody and Peter had effortlessly chosen for the first baby girl soon to be born into the Caine line for six generations. Caine was ecstatic with joy and had dived headfirst into grandparenthood, even if Skalany wasn’t all that thrilled at the thought of becoming a step grandmother in her mid-thirties.

“It’s just weird, you know” she observed, “I mean, we’re all partners here and yet Kathy will call me Nana! My mom will have a stroke when she finds out!”

That elicited a string of guffaws from the guests.

“As long as she doesn’t call _me_ Papa Smurf or something like that like that smart-mouthed girl of yours did, Kermit”, said Chief Streinlich gruffly and that got them going again.

“You were wearing your formal uniform, what did you expect, she tells it how she sees it!” Kermit replied in defense of Paula.

This had happened almost a year ago, during the ceremony of Chief Streinlich retirement from the Force. Paul had retired a year prior, and it came as no surprise to the precinct when Kermit had been promoted to Captain.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Rykker then, “I understand that congratulations are in order, _Captain_ Griffin! Who would have imagined in a million years that you of all people would embrace that life?”

“Things change, my esteemed Rykker”, said Kermit placidly, “Oh, yeah, things change”. And he circled his wife’s shoulders with his arm.

“Hey”, said Jody then, “I still haven’t got an RSVP from Carolyn, do you think it got lost in the mail or something?”

“Nah, she was just put on bed rest for the past month or so” Sarah replied, “preterm labor, but she’s all better now. She had to miss today’s party and she was very sorry, but you know, the baby comes first”.

“Oh, that goes without saying”, Jody agreed fervently.

Lyn had waited well into her second trimester to announce she was expecting again, and everybody had understood completely.  Her baby boy was due in November and Annie currently split her grandmotherly care between Sarah, Jody and Lyn, alight with joy at the perspective of three new grandchildren to pamper and spoil rotten.

Only Kelly seemed immune to the baby fever, and while her relationship with Dr. Frankie was blooming, she had steered clear of the maternity path for the time being.

“Babysitting Fozzie and Gonzo has made me rethink this whole motherhood thing”, she said, “I take my hat off to you, Sarah, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Oh, the Force is strong with this one”, replied Sarah swiftly, making a couple of champagne glasses twirl in the air, “and if all else fails, there is always sex, drugs and rock n’ roll!”

Her guests laughed heartily at that. 

All in all, everything seemed just peachy for the Blaisdell-Caine-Greene-Griffin-McCall household —extremely long overdue in everyone’s opinion—, and this gathering was as much a celebration of that circumstance as it was a Halloween/birthday/baby shower party.

Suddenly, the buzzing went quiet just as General Hellstrom made his martial entrance, arm in arm with a glowing Karen Simms. Jim stopped what he was doing immediately and ran to greet the arriving couple, then led them personally to their hosts.

“Well!” boomed General Hellstrom genially, “isn’t this a wonderful affair!”

“Yes, it is”, said Karen kindly, “we are very thankful to have been included”.

Kermit and Sarah thanked them both for their words and their presence, and then Jim added cheekily:

“Now that everyone’s here, there’s no escape, Mama”, he thrust a microphone in her face and added, “I’ve been telling Uncle Albion what a wonderful duet we make together and there is no way in hell he’ll be leaving this here party without hearing you sing”.

“You sing too, Sarah?” Karen inquired, a little surprised.

“She is terrific, Captain”, gushed Skalany and Jody hurriedly, recounting the only time they had heard Sarah sing and regaling the Captain with the reaction she had elicited from her audience then, “you’ll get chills, you’ll cry and you’ll feel in heaven, we swear!”

“Oh, yes, Sarah, please, sing!” asked Mitch delightedly, “Jason doesn’t believe me when I tell him you absolutely cream Céline Dion!”

The guests laughed hard at that and began to clap rhythmically at the chant of “sing, sing, sing!” so Sarah was left with no choice but to take the proffered mic and waddle her way towards the stage where the small music band stood.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that one, sonny boy” she said to Jim over the mic, making everyone laugh again, “but OK, seeing as this is  a most joyous occasion, I believe a little bit of singing is in order. So get over here and sing with me, will you?”

Laughing, Jim approached the stand, grabbed his guitar and began the first chords of “Take me home, Country Roads”, with Sarah joining in as the second voice; soon, General Hellstrom, whose mother had been born in Virginia, became distinctly teary-eyed and tried to conceal his emotions by fidgeting with his glass of wine. Karen put a soothing hand on his shoulders, listening intently; and while she agreed with Jim that Sarah had indeed a great singing voice, Karen didn’t find it at all extraordinary.

Oh, how wrong she was. During the next half hour, Sarah regaled her audience with the prowess of her vocal range, singing everything from The Cranberries’ “Ode to my Family” to a chilling version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" with Jim serving as the bass voice, and even a nod at Céline Dion's “My Heart will go On”  with impeccable technique , going over a joyful rendition of “Happy Birthday” for the twins, happily chorused by the guests. Jillian had long since lost her polite social smile and could be seen weeping openly into Liam’s head, who looked at his grandmother with wondering eyes. Still, what really managed to break those few who still had dry eyes was Sarah’s solo performance of “The Way We Were”, one of Barbra Streisand’s most iconic tunes: Sarah’s pure, vibrant voice managed to conjure images _(misty, watercolor)_ in the minds of her family and friends, and they were each transported easily to the happiest times of their lives as they listened to Sarah tear moving notes from Heaven itself. Karen looked around, open-mouthed, feeling giddy and euphoric, and seeing the same mirrored in everyone around her; the hyperactive twins were enthralled listening to their mother, and a couple of deer had come out to the clearing and stood cautiously in the line of trees near the stand, listening to the music.

_Can it be that it was all so simple then,_

_Or has time rewritten every line,_

_if we had the chance to do it all again,_

_tell me, would we?_

_Could we?_

Kermit felt his skin crawl at that verse, but his answer was automatic. Yes, he would do it all again, no questions asked.

 Sarah's voice rose almost an octave effortlessly, finishing the song with the same silvery, vibrant  _tessitura_ Kermit had heard in the Bardo:

 

_Memories maybe beautiful, and yet,_

_What’s too painful to remember,_

_We simply choose to forget,_

_So it’s the laughter_

_We will remember,_

_Whenever we remember_

_The way we were…_

“Ho-ly shit” said Skalany admiringly when the thunderous applause died.

“I think I am in labor”, added Jody.

“I think I just got pregnant” offered Kelly, and everyone laughed at that.

“Remarkable, my esteemed young lady, remarkable!” boomed General Hellstrom from his seat, still wiping tears from his eyes. Karen was moved beyond the capacity of speech: she felt healed, whole and incredibly happy, like she hadn’t felt in years.

 _“See,_ Jason?” screeched Mitch smugly, _“I told you!”_

Jason nodded numbly and he suddenly turned to his mother and hugged her tightly.

“Jason, what—!” Marilyn exclaimed, among a fresh cascade of tears.

“I am sorry, Mom”, Jason mumbled, “I really am, please forgive me for _that_ time when I mistreated you when I should have been thankful you were still with me”.

 "Oh, Jason, honey, _of course_ I forgive you!" wailed Marilyn. 

 _Maybe there is something in your voice, get my drift, Snow White?_   Katya’s words echoed in Kermit’s head as he watched the scene before his eyes. The deer, realizing the enthralling music was over, retreated slowly to their burrow in the woods, and the twins fell asleep almost at the same time. The enchantment was over, it seemed. Blake stood up from his table and went towards the buffet, where he started piling food on a plate.

“Hey, I just realized something” said Paul abruptly, watching the ever familiar scene of Blake stuffing his face at the buffet table, “the curse is broken, we just managed to get through a buffet party without all hell breaking loose!”

“Cheers!” bellowed family and friends, raising their glasses in toast, and their joyous laughter rose into the night.

 _You made it, brother,_   Kermit heard David’s voice in his head.

Kermit locked eyes with Sarah and approached her slowly. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, pulling her close to him.

“Yes, I made it”, he said, _“We_  all made it”.

 

 

THE END.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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